A Glimpse Inside
by Eloise Rae
Summary: A look at Belle's past and the day her life is changed forever. You will find out more about Gaston and why his proposal was so revolting to Belle and just how her friendship with the beast blossomed as they spent time together that winter.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- Beauty and the Beast belongs to Disney. I own nothing, but I have had a blast adding on to their characters. I hope you enjoy and review- let me know what you think! :-)

Chapter 1

Candles

In a cottage just outside of a small french village nestled in the foot-hills of the Rhone Alps, a young women named Belle was getting ready for the day. The embers in the fireplace of her bed chamber glowed red reflecting off her heart-shaped face making her creamy skin appear rosy. Her dark brows were knit together in concentration as she built up the fire. She moved with a natural grace around the room making up her bed and organizing her attire for the day, her hands moving quickly. The morning was frosty and Belle shivered as she put on her dress. She pinned her blue pinafore on and tied her fichu cravat around her shoulders. Then sitting in front of her small dressing table she shook loose her dark pleated hair, it fell over her shoulders down to the middle of her back, still damp from washing it the night before. She brushed and twisted her hair back from her face in a simple fashion and gathered the loose ends together with a ribbon, the same blue of her pinafore. Serious almond-shaped hazel eyes scanned her reflection in the mirror, "There, neat and tidy." she thought with satisfaction.

Her mind wandered to the day ahead and she groaned, Candles. Candle making was one of many difficult and time-consuming chores harvest time brought to a women not well off enough to buy them from the Chandler in the village. She looked longingly at her bookshelf, but with the long winter months ahead there was really no time to waste. At least she had finished the book from the book seller last night, and if she was diligent maybe she could borrow another to read when she finished with todays chores. So much to do. She had the butchering and than preserving the produce from garden, orchard, and berry patch. The old proverb came to her; "She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens. She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night." No, she thought, her house would be in light that winter and that light started this morning no matter how unappealing.

She quickly finished straightening her room and started downstairs.

In the kitchen the cook's fire was roaring, she smiled. Papa. He had probably been up for hours, his mind often times didn't let him rest at night and he would start his chores sometimes as early as 2 in the morning and then go down into his workshop in the cellar to get started on his work. She could hear him down in his workshop pounding away on his latest invention. Belle was excited about this one, it was the biggest challenge he had attempted so far. He had been very successful with coming up with things to help around the house, the false window to show who was at the door without them being able to see in, the automatic wick trimmer for Belle's reading candle were just a few things that had made Belle's life easier. This time he had chosen to build a machine that chopped firewood, the design was good but the mechanics were giving Maurice trouble. He had started it almost a year ago in hopes that he could enter it into the farmer's fair that started in just a few days, but it was proving difficult and Belle worried it wouldn't be ready in time.

Breakfast was a simple affair, for Belle didn't enjoy all the preparation and clean up of great elaborate meals and Maurice's belt was getting too small for its master's waist as it was. Belle laid out bread, leftover from last night's disastrous meal, on the table in the front room and put some bacon and sliced potatoes in the frying pan over the fire. They started to sizzled while Belle went to the larder for the milk Maurice had gotten from the goats that morning.

When the breakfast table was laid Belle called down to her father and then sat down at the table to wait for him, Maurice always took a little time to break away from his tasks. As Belle sat waiting she reflected on her father's past, she loved her father and his life was an inspiration to her.

Maurice had been a very successful wholesale merchant in the city of Annecy, dealing mostly in selling fishing boats. He had a keen eye and a good business sense and had gained a reputation of being a solid businessman and by the time he was thirty was very wealthy. He eventually married the daughter of one of his wealthiest customers.

Leanne was a girl of seventeen when she became Maurice's wife. Tender-hearted, affectionate, charitable and kind as well as being beautiful in face and form, she had a bright and imaginative mind and an overwhelming love of literature. Maurice found himself falling desperately in love with his young wife as time went on. The marriage was a huge success.

The couple shared their lives in an Italian styled villa they called Mansion de Lumiere de Dans, House of the Dancing Light, for the sunlight would reflect off the water, filter through the trees that lined their garden and dance on the walls in their rooms.

Leanne spent her days in the garden or reading from the extensive library, and Maurice when not at his desk was indulging in his favorite pastime, inventing. News from the new world had reached him and how the colonies were expanding and the settlers, with almost no metal or tools, could create machines and inventions that helped save labor. He had read all about Isaac Newton's ideas and theories. His mind would race with sheer thrill, it was his dream to one day design a machine that would do the job of a man, but for now he just played with ideas.

Just before the couple's second Christmas together Leanne gave birth to a plump and rosy baby girl. Leanne took to motherhood readily, nursing and cuddling her daughter that reminded her so much of a rose bud. Maurice had just read the fairy tale Belle-Belle to his wife on the last nights of her confinement and the two were enchanted with the heroine and wished their child to have such kindness and courage as was shown in the story. So Belle was named, not for her beauty but for a folk tale of a girl who had the courage and love to go and fight a war as a solider to spare her father's life.

Belle grew into a pretty little girl with engaging manners and a sharp wit, dearly loved by her parents and the servants of the estate. Her earliest memories were walking on the shining shores of Lac Annecy holding her mother's hand or swimming in the icy water with her father. Belle remembered Annecy fondly, the market place across the river from The Palais de L'lle, the beautiful red and gold buildings etched and colored by years of weather and history. The smells of the cafe and the excitement and gaiety of the theater and operas all wrapped in borders of flowers and wispy trees. All these had stirred up a great passion and imagination in Belle, and as she grew her parents had seen it necessary to hire a private tutor for their very bright daughter and from an early age a love of learning had been instilled in her. Her father gave her an interest in design and physics, and her mother a love and need for stories, books, to stretch the imagination, to feed the soul and literary companions more intimate than those walking around the very streets of her city.

Rich in love and all the comforts this world can offer they had been a very well-to-do family indeed. Alas, that life did not last, Mama had died and they had left their home and servants for a simpler life so Maurice could let his heart-break heal, away from the memories of his late wife. He sold his business and home and inventing became his past time.

In a quiet village nestled in the foothills of the alps they made their new home. They settled on a small plot of land that bordered the river, the house was in disrepair but there was room enough for the two of them and fixing the house gave them something to do together. Maurice had all sorts of ideas for devises to outfit their new home and Belle was indulgent with each. Over the first few months they acquired goats and chickens and each spring Maurice brought home a piglet to fatten up through summer to provide ham for the winter.

The three years of being a widow had not been kind to Maurice. As a youth he had a powerful build, strong in the shoulders and narrow in the waist. Never very tall but he had an air of confidence. His nut-brown hair turned white the first year and his brilliant green eyes dulled. Yes, life without his bride had taken away his spirit and stature. It was very distressing for Belle to watch, and she knew the town saw him not as the man she adored but an eccentric middle-aged tinker. Well, at least he was doing what he loved.

The door opened, startling Belle from her revery. Maurice walked in and washed his hands in the kitchen and came into the front room, he leaned over Belle and kissed the top of her head, a traditional morning gesture Belle had remembered him doing all her life.

"Hmmm, smells good." He sat down and started to dip his bread in the bacon drippings. "Any plans today?" He asked his daughter.

"Candles today Papa," Maurice laughed as Belle screwed up her face with distaste. "I think when the wood-cutter is done a metal candle mold would be a good thing to create. It would sure make my life easier in the fall."

"I will see what I can come up with. Hopefully, with the way things are going this morning I will have this machine ready to go to the fair today. Then I may need to catch up on some sleep before I start anything new."

Belle looked closely at her father, there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. "What time did you get up this morning?"

He didn't answer but gave her a half-smile full of mischief then went on eating his breakfast. "Oh, Papa. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"I will have plenty of time for sleep as soon as this fair is over." He ate his last bite took a drink of tea and stood up," Which reminds me, what time is it, Quarter to five? I better get back down there. While you are in town do you think you could pick up a few things I ordered from the blackxa ?smith?" He told Belle what to get, cleared his dishes and the headed back outside to his workshop in the cellar.

With dishes done along with the regular morning chores out-of-the-way Belle took off her fichu cravat in anticipation of the hot fire, and got started with the candles.

Supplying of the household with its winter stock of candles was a harsh but inevitable duty in the autumn, and the lugging about of immense kettles, the smell of tallow, deer suet, bear's grease, and stale pot-liquor, and the constant demands of the great fireplace made candle season a period of loathing for Belle. It was a tricky and time-consuming task. The great kettle had to be kept at the right temperature, too cool and the wax would come out lumpy, too warm and the wax in the kettle would melt the wax already on the wicks.

At last she started. She prepared the tallow by rendering the grease and fat, then strung her wicks through the dipping rack and prepared the table to hold her finished product. She then went to the fire-place and built up the fire, with enough wood to feed it through the morning laid next to the fire stone. Belle started the task of dipping and cooling and then dipping again, all the while keeping the fire at the correct temperature. As she fell into the motion she let her mind wander. She looked out the dark front window and could hear the birds starting to chirp, their singing made Belle feel more cheerful, the task was under way and a new day was ahead of her. She lifted the batch of candles out of the wax and let them cool, she tried not to think of the long dark winter months ahead but of the fair her father was going to.

Last year she had gone with him and had enjoyed the sights and smells of the harvest celebration but this year she had been unable to find someone to watch the livestock and the garden was giving so much produce she was having to go out daily to gather it .

She dipped the candles back in the kettle and smoothly brought it back up again to h1[arden. She wiped her sweaty face with her apron and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. The process of the candles suddenly made her sad, "this is my life," she thought to herself, "the same thing every day, every year we do the same thing just like the candles, down into the hot wax and then back out to dry then back in and up, over and over again. Ever since we moved here I have started my mornings by getting up at four, doing the same daily chores and then seasonal chores year after year. There had to be more to life then this."

Belle took herself to task, her name sake gave up her freedom and even identity as a woman to give her father safety and freedom. "And that is no less than what you are doing Belle" she told herself. But somehow that left her feeling flat.

"After the fair things will look different." Maurice had promised her, "this machine is going to change everything." Belle smiled at his child-like optimism. How could one machine change the things Belle needed to be changed. If the wood-cutter was a success he would just be down in his workshop more than ever, creating duplicates for people who ordered them.

Belle pulled the set of candles up for the last time and took them to the table to lay them in the holder to harden. She took another set of wicks stung them on the metal rack and dipped them in the kettle starting the process over.

Her mind went back to her discontent. The problem she realized wasn't un-gratefulness but boredom and loneliness, her father was always occupied and she didn't have a companion to share life or even any of her feelings with. Her mind shot back to the night before and she shivered. Yesterday had been an exception to the boredom, a day that started just like all the others but then HE stepped in, or rather she thought, I went to him and now I really don't know what will happen.


	2. The Mountain Man

Belle could remember the first time she heard about the village's Homme de Montagne, Gaston, on one of her first trips into the village. A handsome mountain of a man who stood 6 feet 5 inches. With an ancestry that was connected to the village for more generations then could be remembered. Two of the most successful businesses in town belonged to his family, the tavern and blacksmith shop. Gaston could have sat back and enjoyed living off the labors of his forefathers, but instead he had created quite a reputation all his own. At the age of thirty two he was known as the most skilled woodsman in the Province. He was a rebellious, sharpshooting, tale-spinning and larger-than-life sportsman and everyone loved him. His father had taught him to shoot a rifle as a small child and had been greatly impressed at his son's natural ability not only with the gun but how he could navigate his way through the woods. He was the youngest of a tribe of handsome and strapping boys and had grown to be the biggest, best looking and most talented. He was beyond proficient in everything he did. He used a rifle where other men used a shot gun and a bow where another man would use a rifle. The knife he carried at his side was used not only to effortlessly gut and skin his game, but also as a deadly weapon, the bear rug that lay on the floor of the tavern was said to be proof of that.

Gaston was a romantic figure not only for his appearance and charisma, but because of his wild life, ruled not by a calendar or clock but by the climate and the seasons. The stories and feats of Gaston were so exciting to the town's people largely because most of his stories were true. The life of the mountain man was rough. One that brought him face to face with death on a regular basis through burning heat, or freezing cold, dehydration and sometimes by the surprise attack of an animal. He spent the Spring and Autumn hunting and trapping. In the summer he would rendezvous with all the mountain men of the region to trade and sell his furs. It was often the scene on the streets wherever a group of men gathered there was Gaston in the middle. His beautiful baritone voice echoing off the walls of the buildings, telling of his thrilling adventures. Indeed, with his prodigious strength and rakish humor he was a favorite of all the village. And always, outside the group of men there were two or more women staring wistfully at the striking man with his flashing smiles, infectious laugh, piercing blue eyes and his hair the color of night. Belle would watch with amusement as girls of all ages would try to get his attention by dropping their handkerchiefs or trying to step in front of him so he had to open the door for them. He seemed to know how to be a gentleman but as soon as the good deed was done, Belle could tell, he had forgotten their very existence. Although Belle had only heard wonderful things about this man and his appearance was admittedly striking, she had a very different opinion of Gaston. It was obvious to Belle no one cared more about Gaston then Gaston. She found his egotistical, self-awareness nauseating. Having to do business with him last year had been one of the worst experiences of her life.

The first fall she had to make candles Belle had tried saving fat from her chickens and from the butchering, but she didn't get nearly enough and had to borrow from her neighbors. They told her the best way to get tallow was to purchase wild game fat from Gaston. When she approached him to make her order he was sitting outside the tavern, his chair leaned back against the wall, knife in hand, whittling a piece of wood into a stag so intricate in it's smallest detail looking at it took Belle's breath away. She gathered her thoughts and introduced herself. She asked if he had grease and fat to make tallow, instead of rising and bowing in the traditional manner of a gentle businessman, he just stayed seated not looking at her at all he just sat there carving away grunting his replies. She was embarrassed talking down to him and wasn't sure how to respond to his grunting. She got away as quickly as she could, telling herself she would never speak to him again. The next day a little man, who called himself Le Fou, delivered the fat to her door and collected the money.

This year she had tried in vain to find another means of collecting enough animal fat for her candles but found Gaston was her only option unless she went out and shot a deer and a bear herself. So, yesterday with gritted teeth she went back to the tavern. Peeking in through the window she could see him inside playing darts and laughing with three other men. She waited, trying to get his attention from the window, again feeling the fool, and when that failed Belle had to ask a man passing on the street to bring Gaston out of the tavern. He came out, obviously annoyed at being interrupted but brightened at the site of Belle.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle, how can I be of service?" He asked with a charming grim.

"Bonjour, Gaston. I would like to talk to you about getting some deer suet and bear's grease."

"Oh, candle making are we?" he addressed her as if she were a child of 7 playing house.

She decided to ignore his tone. "Yes, I would like to get started right away, Do you happen to have 20 pounds of each I could buy from you?

"Well, my supply is going pretty fast." He said coyly, "As it is seems making candles is a thing _all_ you women like to do in the autumn."

Belle was taken aback. "You women… Like to do…" Was this man mad? Didn't he realize that this back breaking, hot, smelly and all around unpleasant task kept the town in light during the long winter mornings and evenings. He was impossible.

"Yes, I realize that I may be too late, so if that is the case I will ask my neighbors if I can buy from them. Thank you." Ready to go without light for ten years rather then talk to this bore for a second more she turned and walked away.

Gaston's smile faded. He stared after her in disbelief. Here he was trying to flirt and this girl was walking away from him. Didn't she know who he was?

"No! wait." he bounded after her, cutting her off with a huge arm. "I didn't say I didn't have any, I was just explaining how quickly it is going. I can set you up with what you need." Then he grinned and declared in the most irresistible voice he knew "And even if I didn't have any, I would go out and bring a bear down with my bare hands just for you." He looked deeply into her eyes trying to catch a sign of melting by that great complement.

But instead of any sort of gratitude she said simply "Oh, that wouldn't be necessary, I'm sure you aren't the only man in town who knows how to take down a bear. Good day." She ducked under his arm and started down the street. Then called over her shoulder. "Shall I bring my cart over for it or will you deliver?"

"I will deliver." Gaston said weakly as he watched her in utter disbelief. Never had a women ever spoken to him in such a way. True he had never really thought about it. He just knew women liked it when he talked to them or paid them any attention, it was a great game. It had always had the same effect, they swooned or were overcome with giggling. But this girl was different. He watched her as she walked down the street. Why, she was beautiful. understated, but truly beautiful. He hadn't noticed her before. At that moment his partner Le Fou came out of the tavern to see what was keeping Gaston from the game. But before Le Fou could say anything Gaston grabbed him by the shirt.

"Le Fou, who is that girl?"

"That girl?" Le Fou strained his eyes looking at where Gaston was pointing. "With the brown pony tail? That's the inventor's daughter, I can't remember her name. She bought suet from you last year, remember?"

Gaston couldn't. How could he forget a girl like that? No, he knew he had never seen her before. But he was determined he was going to see her again, after all he had to deliver the fat to her house didn't he? Normally he sent Le Fou but if he himself went it would be the perfect opportunity to win her over. He would just unload the tub of grease and packages of suet in front of her showing her how strong he was, oh, too bad she only wanted 20 pounds of each, 100 pounds would have been a little more impressive. Oh well, there would be plenty of time to show her what an impressive specimen he was later. And with that comforting thought he went inside to finish the game of darts.


	3. The Bookshop

Belle walked down the lane fuming. Who did he think he was? He had the simple task of saying "Yes, I have what you need." or "No, I cannot help you." and he just could not do it. Last year with his revolting manners and today his insulting attitude toward women and his total ignorance of how necessary things had to be... She stopped, thats what it was, he was just an ignorant, conceited man who would not lift a finger unless it benefited him in some way. "I guess, because of his appearance I just expected him to be a little more like the heros in my books like Hercules or Voltaire's Candide." She laughed at herself, "Belle, you have seen enough of that man to know that Gaston is the product of vanity and a weak mind, a deadly combination by any thinking person's standards. I wont give him rent to any more of my thinking, he is what he is and I will not let him upset me anymore."

She started off again, thinking maybe she could treat herself to a trip to the bookseller now that her errands were done. The bookseller was her favorite place to go. The shop keeper, Monsieur Alain Chartier, was a wonderful man who had run the bookstore for almost forty years. Belle had befriended him just weeks after moving to the village, and a very welcome friend he had become indeed. He had been simply educated, but through the years his reading had greatly expanded his mind. She enjoyed hearing about his life and he had listened with great interest to her own story. He was the one person she could talk to about her love of books and her need to read and he not only listened but encouraged it. Whenever a new book came he would hold it for her so she could take it home to read. At first Belle tried to pay him, but he asked her to think of his books as those of a library.

As Belle stepped through the door the shop keeper's bell chimed cheerly over her head. The bookshop was a modest sized room, filled with sunlight from the half-round window. Maple shelves the color of honey lined the walls filled with books of all colors and textures. In the back was a work-table where Monsieur Chartier rebound and re-stitched books that had fallen into disrepair. He also had a neat little business of being the town's leather worker and the table was heaped with the decorative work of his craft. The distinct smell of leather matched with wood smoke from the stove with just a hint of dust gave Belle a real feel of comfort and security. This was a welcome place where she felt at home, and it was a pleasure just to be in the room.,

"Ah Belle, just the women I wanted to see." Monsieur Chartier greeted her. He went to is work bench and picked up a beautifully bond book of wine colored leather. "This book arrived just this morning and I think you should read it before I put it out to sell".

Belle's heart started to flutter, a new book was more then she had expected. She had long ago read every book on his shelves. "Oh, Monsieur thank you!" She took the book from his hands and read the title. Round About Our Coal Fire By Forge J. Roberts,

"Yes, it is full of adventure and magic, one story in particular will catch your interest, The Story of Jack Spriggins and the Enchanted Bean. Very gripping. I understand the Viking's told it on their Knarrs when they were sailing to pass the time from one pillage and plunder excursion to the next."

Belle giggled, she loved the old man's humor and way of looking at life. So much more mellow then her own, but then age did that to a person, smoothed the rough edges away.

Belle hugged the book to her chest, this would help, something to look forward to when her afternoon chores were done.

"Well Monsieur, I should hurry home so I can get started. The sooner I start the sooner I will have it back to you."

"Oh Belle, you know there is no hurry. Enjoy!"

Belle could hardly wait to get home to start reading. She left the shop trying to withstand the urge to open the book right there on the street and start reading as she often did with books she had read before, but she wanted to wait until she could really savor it. Smiling, she walked home. Gaston was the last person on her mind, making life pleasant once again.


	4. At the Livery

Evening fell on the little village. Gaston was at the Livery Stable hitching up Molly, the mule that he used for deliveries, to his cart. After the girl had left him that morning he had gone to great links to find out her name. Sofie, his sister-in-law had revealed to him it was Belle, a very appropriate name for her. He had immediately started to plan how he was going to woo her. He had told his partner, Lefou, to take the night off and now was getting ready to deliver Belle's order. He had waited to deliver her order right at suppertime on purpose, for showing up right when the meal was being served he would naturally be invited in and he wanted to see what kind of cook Belle was and what shape the house was in before he completely made up his mind on what to do. He wanted to be careful, he knew what the town thought of Maurice.

"Crazy as a bed bug." they said, "Trying to invent things that saved time and labor. Why, things had been done the same way for hundreds of years and they would continue on for hundreds of years to come." Gaston had heard that the inventor's daughter wasn't much different then her father, "Given to reading books, not at all appropriate for a young women going on twenty-one who wasn't married. Wasn't she worried she would die an old maid?".

He hadn't given them much thought. What did he need with crazy people? But that all changed now that he had seen how incredibly beautiful she was. He was certain all she needed was a good strong man to tell her how things were, and he was the perfect man in town for that. If she could cook and keep a clean house then she was the girl for him.

As Gaston finished with the mule and cart, he looked around him. The house next to the Livery Stable/Blacksmith Shop was his brother's home. It shone like copper in the setting sun's golden light. The window of the kitchen was open to the cooling evening breeze, smells of venison stew wafted out greeting his nose and making his mouth water. In front of him he could hear sounds of his brother, Royden, in the shop cleaning up after a long day's work. Tools being put back in their place, the hiss of the fire being put out with the 'cooling' water, for Royden was getting ready to wash up for supper and then spend the evening with his bride. Gaston knew how it would be, after a huge meal Royden would stretch out on the sofa in front of the blazing fire, his wife, Sofie, next to him mending socks or knitting, quietly singing to herself, dishes from supper washed and put away. It made a pretty picture in Gaston's mind.

Royden was the second oldest of the boys and Gaston's favorite brother. Royden was tall and muscular like his brother, but where Gaston was well-defined Royden was just big all the way around like a bear. He had the same black hair as Gaston, but unlike Gaston's clean-shaven face, Royden had an impressive beard. Royden spent his young years quietly learning metal-craft alongside his father, so by the time his father had died he had seamlessly stepped into his father's job using his great skill and strength shaping iron into tools, making horseshoes and wagon-wheel rims. The ring of Royden's hammer striking the anvil and the clop, clop of the horses hoofs Royden had shod were part of the familiar everyday sounds of the village.

Royden wasn't social like Gaston, he had always been reserved and quiet, keeping to himself. It was in fact a shock to the village when he ventured out of his shop one day last May and called upon Sofie's father to ask for his blessing in taking her hand in marriage. Royden and Sofie were married the next month, breaking many a young man's heart. Sofie was a beautiful girl of nineteen, with golden hair that fell to her shoulders in perfect curls and big velvety brown eyes. She was calm and sweet, very well liked by everyone. Gaston admired his older brother very much. Royden had it all, beautiful wife, warm and comfortable home and a job he loved, but best of all Gaston could guess that they would soon be welcoming the start of a family.

Watching his brother's quiet evening unfold before him woke up a hunger he had never had before. He wanted to come home from a long trip in the woods to such a scene. To be warmed by a fire and embraced by a beautiful women with his dinner on the table. He had inherited his parent's hunting lodge that sat on the hill overlooking the village five years ago when his mother had died, but he was hardly there. Going into a huge, cold, dark house was depressing when he came back to town after hunting or checking his traps. When he was in town he wanted to be with people, so he stayed in his room in the inn above the tavern, spending his days off in the tavern drinking beer and laughing with the men, going up to bed only when the last one had gone home. He had lived this way for years and now it all seemed so petty, he wanted a family like the one he had grown up in.

He remembered his great father sitting in his giant red chair smoking his pipe while his mother rubbed her husband's shoulders or feet, helping him to relax after a long days work. Their five boys wrestling on the floor of the great hall, their shouts and laughter filling the room to the high ceiling. It was the best way to grow up. Now both parents were dead and three of his brothers had moved from the village, scattered all over Europe.

Since Royden's marriage, Gaston had thought it a good idea to someday take a wife, to be the master of his own house and family. But the trouble had always been who was good enough? Sure, there were the Gariner sisters, Magda, Zsa Zsa and Eva, pretty, blond and plump. They were usually at the tavern in the evenings he was there, and he enjoyed their giggles and flirting. But they were too similar to each other and he wanted someone who was different, someone who looked distinctive on his arm. Until today no one had come close to his ideal women, but then he had met Belle. When he had first stepped out of the tavern this morning and had seen Belle's beautiful face with those doe-like eyes, he knew his life would never be the same.

His mind was made up, Belle was the most beautiful girl in town and it was time to take a wife. Well, he would deliver the grease and fat and see if she were the one he could depend on to bring his dreams of domestic life to a reality. If she could cook and keep a clean house she was the girl for him.

Gaston threw the barrel of grease and packages of suet in the back of the cart and jumped up on the seat, his massive frame shook the little wagon. He grabbed the reigns and gave them a shake. "Move on there old Molly," he bellowed at the mule and the two of them started off through the quiet streets toward Belle's cottage.

a/n- Royden and Sofie are seen on the movie in the last number "Kill the Beast" in front of Maurice's home.


	5. Supper

Gaston pulled up to Maurice and Belle's cottage just as twilight was revealing the night's first stars. Sounds from the river behind the house set a tune for the croaking frogs that made their home in the marshy places in the field. He looked around with satisfaction at the sight of the the well-kept cottage. His hunting lodge was on the other side of town, so he rarely went this way. Now he looked at the countryside with a new interest. Warm light shone down on him from the window above. He tied Molly to the hitching post by the well and dipped some water into the trough for her to drink. Then he headed up the porch stairs and knocked loudly on the front door.

Maurice opened the door and looked at Gaston with surprise. "Why, bonsoir, Gaston. Can I be of some service to you?"

"Bonsoir, Maurice. Belle came to me today and ordered deer suet and bear's grease. I came to deliver her order," Gaston replied. Wonderful smells came rushing to his nose - smells of supper, but he wasn't sure what was cooking.

"Oh, we didn't expect you to come. You can bring them right in. Belle is just finishing supper. Would you care to share our meal?"

Just then Belle entered the front room, wiping her hands on a towel. She had a white apron tied around her tiny waist and her hair was different, but Gaston couldn't place how.  
She looked at him with surprise. "Good evening, Gaston. I didn't expect you to deliver the order yourself."

"Bonsoir, Belle." He liked the way her named sounded on his tongue. "I decided to give Le Fou the night off and come myself." He turned to Maurice. "Certainly, Maurice! I'll be happy to give you and your lovely daughter the pleasure of my company." Gaston strutted past Maurice into the room, pausing at the the mirrored lowboy to check his hair.

"Oh, she would be delighted! Wouldn't you, Belle?" Maurice was thrilled. He knew of Gaston, the most admired man in town, and knew the great compliment Gaston was paying them by his call. Belle hadn't many friends, and it did his heart good to see such a handsome man come to see her, even if it was only to drop by an order. Maurice wanted to make sure Gaston had a pleasant time.

Gaston turned from the mirror and grinned at Maurice's enthusiasm. Of COURSE Belle would be delighted to have Gaston stay! What woman wouldn't be?

Belle groaned inwardly. She had been hoping not to have to speak to Gaston until next year's order. And she had the book she wanted to finish - she had only gotten halfway through it that afternoon before evening chores had torn her away. Oh, well. Papa never had men come by, and it would do him good to have male conversation for an evening, such as it was.

"Of course. You are just in time for supper. Come, sit down with Papa. I will finish bringing the dishes to the table." She headed back to the kitchen

Maurice led Gaston to a rocking chair next to the fire. Gaston noticed the chair was elegantly made and that the cushions were beautifully embroidered with flowers of pinks and yellows. He couldn't help but compliment it, hoping it was his bride-to-be's handiwork.

"What a beautiful chair, monsieur!"

"Oh, thank you! That came with us from Annecy. My late wife embroidered it years ago." Maurice smiled down at the chair. It was one of his treasures here on earth.

Gaston didn't know what to say, but he sure didn't want to sit in such a delicate chair, He knew just one of his legs could crush it. "I think Belle would look more ornamental sitting there. Wiith my manly frame, I think one of the wooden Windsors would be better suited for me." He pulled a chair of more traditional build towards him and sat down. He looked around the room, pleased at what he saw. The fireplace had a fire, appropriate for the cool evening and yet small enough for the modest sized room. The mantel above the fire was large and wooden, and was neatly laid with plates, an extra water kettle, and a painting of some trees. A rose-colored rug lay on the scrubbed wooden floor. Everything seemed to be in its place and not a speck of dust to be found. He turned to Maurice, who seemed to be asking him something. "What was that?" Gaston didn't hide his irritation at having his thoughts interrupted.

"Oh, I was just saying how cool the nights have been getting. We will have snow before too long. It is hard to believe when days are as warm as they were today that winter is just around the corner."

"Ah, yes. Being so close to the Alps, the storm clouds really set in over us. I wouldn't expect you to understand about such weather patterns. Last year I was caught in the first snow of the season." Gaston inwardly shivered, remembering his twenty-mile trek back to town without his cloak and his horse and pack mule laden with game. In this part of the country, the seasons could change with no warning: 75 degrees in the afternoon and a foot of snow on the ground the next morning.

Gaston sat back in his chair and told the account to Maurice in vivid detail. "With my hunting prowess, I always seem to get more game then I know what to do with. Last year I was heading down the mountain, having already bagged two stags and a bear, when I walked right into a herd of red deer. Of course I immediately knew what to do. A lesser man would have panicked the herd, but with my keen sense and steady hand, I came out the champion as usual."

He leaned forward, intent on the story. "It is of the utmost importance to walk quietly, and I have always been known as the quietest hunter in the Provence," he continued. "I pulled my bow off my shoulder and my arrows out of my quiver, and before you could blink I had three deer down! I would have gotten more, but it I didn't want to injure my horse by overloading him. But back to my story. I was so quiet, the other deer didn't even know I was in the area until I started gutting the three I had taken down. Well, I loaded my horse with the deer and started walking home, which usually takes me only about five hours. But then the snow started coming down in droves, and forging my way through took some time. I'm just glad I am also the strongest man in the Province as well, or it would have really taken me a long time to get back to the village!"

Gaston went on to describe why autumn was the time to hunt game for meat and lard, while the snowy season was the time for fur-bearing prey, when the animals had a nice, thick, glossy coat. "A layman like you can't be expected to know how men do things out in the wilderness," Gaston explained to Maurice.

Maurice just chucked to himself. He now knew why Gaston had such a reputation as a tale-spinner among the men of the village.

Belle was listening to Gaston in the kitchen as she finished preparing the meal. The way Gaston addressed her father with no respect made her boiling mad. "Who does he think he is? Coming here and talking to papa as if he were a less-than-bright child?" She took a deep breath and walked into the front room with a bowl heaped with chicken and vegetables. Gaston didn't bother to get up from his chair, but Maurice jumped to his feet and took the bowl from her and laid it on the table so Belle could go to the fire and fetch the bread. She lifted the lid off of the cast iron kettle revealing piping hot kettle bread, shiny with melted butter. She used a fork and lifted the loaf and laid it on the table to cool. Then she took the tea kettle off the hearth and poured tea for the men and then herself and sat down.

Gaston took a sip of tea, then leaned back in his chair and said, "I like my tea more on the cool side. Belle, if you could get some cold water to bring the temperature down a little. I would hate to burn my lips on hot tea." He grinned charmingly at Belle.

It took all of Belle's strength not to roll her eyes as she got up from the table to get him some cool water.

When Belle left, Gaston looked at the table. There wasn't a lot of food, but she would figure out how he liked his table in time. He broke off some bread and scooped some of the chicken onto his plate, being careful not to get too many vegetables. The bread was fragrant, warm and crisp on the outside, and soft and buttery in the center. The bowl of chicken was a dish Gaston had never had before and he was a little worried. Onions and garlic had been cooked with white wine and mixed with the meat of a chicken, squash, tomatoes, and fresh herbs that gave the dish an almost wild smell, and all was heaped on a bed of young spinach. Gaston took a bite and was impressed. If Belle could make even vegetables taste good, he couldn't wait to see what she would do with a roast of venison or a side of beef.

Belle came back in and gave Gaston his water. He looked at Belle. Her hair was pulled up off her shoulders and twisted into a bun; that's what was different. She looked adorable. Belle looked up and caught him staring at her, and she looked away quickly, her cheeks reddening. Gaston liked that. This is what he was used to. "Your hair is different from this morning."

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and smiled. "Yes, Papa likes my hair down, but by the end of the day it has usually fallen out and gets into my eyes, so I pull it back to cook supper."

"It suits you." He grinned and took a forkful of chicken."This is pretty good - much better then it looks. What do you call it?"

"Thank you. I call it "Grandmamma's Garden Chicken." Remembering her mother's cooking, Belle smiled, showing her white and even teeth. "I just make the most of with whatever we have in the garden. My mother's mother was brought up in Lorraine, and the style of cooking just carried down to me."

"Well, it seems that you are right at home in the kitchen. I can see why Maurice is so thick around his middle!" Gaston nudged Maurice with his elbow, adding, "A man would have to be careful with you making his meals, Belle!" He burst into a deep throaty laugh and wiped a tear of mirth away from his eye. Then he broke off a chunk of bread and started sopping up sauce from his plate. As he stuffed the bread in his mouth, he said, "I haven't eaten so many vegetables since I was a little boy and my mother forced me, but I'll be hanged if these aren't real enjoyable."

Belle looked at him blankly. By then she didn't know whether to be offended by Gaston's tasteless jab at her father, or sickened from watching him talk with a mouthful of food, or if she should just laugh out loud at the ridiculous scene before her. Here was Gaston, the village's hero, who had never paid any attention to her or her father, sitting at their table perfectly at home. She couldn't make sense of it at all.

She took control of herself, something she had to do a lot around this man, and said with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, "Thank you, Gaston, I'm sure."

Gaston smiled down at her. He was pleased. Here was the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and she kept a clean home and was a remarkable cook. He decided right then and there that she was the one. Gaston's mind exploded with ideas for the wedding. He decided he would ask Belle tomorrow. The obvious place to ask would be the tavern, among all his trophies, and then when she said yes, drinks would be at the ready and his friends would more than likely be easy to assemble. And then the wedding...His heart warmed at the thought. This would be a wedding the likes of which the the town had never seen! And it might as well be tomorrow, too! This time tomorrow evening, Belle would be at Gaston's house cooking dinner for him! Gaston could scarcely contain his excitement. He gobbled down the rest of his dinner, pushed away his plate, and leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, smiling with contentment. He watched his soon-to-be wife with pleasure.

Belle continued to eat, but she could feel Gaston's eyes on her, and it made her more than a little uneasy. She wondered why the sudden interest in her and her father? She looked at Maurice for help, for any kind of guidance, and was surprised to see him choking back laughter, tears rolling down his cheeks. That didn't help at all.

"Papa, why don't you tell Gaston about you latest invention?" Belle suggested, thinking that getting a conversation going might help.

"Oh yes!" Maurice started excitedly, "I have been working on-"

"Some other time perhaps, Maurice." Gaston cut him off, clearly uninterested in anything Maurice had to say, and stood up to go. "Belle, I am so happy I was able to come and keep you company. The meal was pretty good too. Maurice," he shook Maurice's hand, "I'm glad I could enlighten you on how the weather is in these parts. I will bring the suet and grease to the kitchen, if you would hold the door open for me, Belle."

Belle followed him to the door and held it open. He walked out into the chilly night to his wagon, untied a rope, and lifted out the barrel and bundle. He placed them both on his left arm, carried them high on his shoulder and gigantic bicep, and brought them up the porch steps. Belle held the wooden door open for him and followed as he went into the kitchen. She asked him to set them on the floor next to the brick oven. He carelessly tossed them down. Then he turned to her and grabbed her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it before she could pull it away. He flashed a grin of perfect white teeth at her and walked out of the room. She shuddered and wiped the back of her hand on her apron. She heard him bid her father good night and then walk, whistling, out the door.

Belle sank into the kitchen chair exhausted, not by the day's activities, but this man who just seemed to put her on her guard. His boasting was hard to listen too and his preening hard to watch. But most of all she didn't feel comfortable around him at all. She felt like one of Gaston's deer in the line of fire, not knowing where to turn or what was happening.

Maurice came into the kitchen carrying dishes from the table and set them on the counter. "Well, I haven't had so much fun at the table in a long time. That young man is confident, to say the least." He chuckled, shaking his head as he went to the wash basin. Looking out the window into the dark night, he washed his hands. "Well, I better go back down and try to finish that old machine. I am hoping to leave before dinner tomorrow, if all goes well. Thank you for supper, my dear," He smiled at Belle as he headed to his workshop.

Belle got to her feet, Papa was right - all you could do was laugh. Why did she let people get under her skin so easily? She gathered the plates and dishes from super and scraped them into the pig's bucket then laid them in the basin. She went to the cook's fire to get the kettle of steaming water and poured it over the dishes, then started to scrub them. She was glad the day was over. When the dishes were done, her hair washed and braided for the night, Belle went up to her room, curled up on her bed with Jack Spriggins and his Enchanted Bean and was soon far away from the village, candles and Gaston.

Here is a taste of Belle's supper ;-)

Belle's Kettle Bread  
3 cups unbleached flour  
1 3/4 teaspoons salt  
1/2 teaspoon yeast (you can use Instant or Rapid-rise, yeah! for modern inventions)

1 1/2 cup water

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, salt and yeast. Add water and mix until a shaggy mixture forms. Cover (with plastic wrap, again yeah!) bowl and set aside for 12 - 18 hours or overnight. Belle used her dutch oven, hung over the coals in her fireplace but you can just heat your oven to 450 degrees. When oven is hot place your cast iron pot, or any heat tolerant covered pot, with a lid in the oven and heat the pot for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, pour dough onto a heavily floured surface and shape into a ball. Cover and let set while the pot is heating. Remove hot pot from the oven and drop in the dough. Cover and return to oven for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes remove the lid brush on a little melted butter and bake an additional 15 minutes. Remove bread from oven and place on a cooling rack to cool.

This is a great base bread. Have fun adding to it, ie; cranberries and orange zest or rosemary and parmesan cheese- just think "French".


	6. Little Town Part 1

After leaving Belle's house, Gaston went to his hunting lodge instead of the tavern to get it ready for his bride. His groom Gilles met him at the stable with some surprise. Gaston drove the mule and cart into the stable and gave orders to bed Molly down and take care of the cart. He could return Molly and the cart to the metal shop's stable in the morning.

The lodge stood on the eastern side of the village on a hill. It's once magnificent gardens were now overgrown due to neglect by their current owner, who had no interest in flowers. The house itself was a difficult size: too small to employ more than one or two servants, but too large for a single family to be able to handle with ease. But this did not bother Gaston. He had watched his mother run the entire estate with just the help of one kitchen girl and the stablehand who also sometimes helped with the gardens.

As Gaston entered the great house, darkness was all that met his eyes. He had to hunt to find the tinderbox and once he did, he had to go back outside to get logs for the fireplace. In almost no time at all he had a fire blazing. With the fire now lighting the room, Gaston looked around the room. Sheets covered the furniture and dust covered everything else. Cobwebs hung thick from the wooden beams that lined the high ceiling. He shook his head. This was going to take some doing. He decided he would hire a few women to come and clean first thing in the morning.

He took a candle off of a wall sconce and held it to the fire to light. With the candle lighting his way he headed to the dinning hall to see the state of things in there. He found the same signs of neglect; the fire-place was heaped with ashes cold as the grave, the mantle was thick with dust, and the wooden dining table and floor where covered with mouse droppings. How long had it been since he had been here? Surley not more then a month… But then he remembered that the last time he had stayed there was before Royden's wedding, many month's ago.

Depressed by the sorry state of his childhood home, he went through the big oak doorway into the kitchen. This had been his favorite room of the house always warm from the cook's fire, plenty of food for five growing boys, and his mother always busy, either preparing meals, washing their clothes, or scrubbing the floors. She had always been busy, and it had made him feel secure to know that she was always the first one awake and the last one to bed. As a small boy he had loved laying in bed at night hearing his father's snores in the master's room and his mother busy in the kitchen. He looked at the room now, cold, dirty and dark, and the only smell was of dampness. But then the thought of Belle came to his mind and a smile spread across his lip. Tomorrow things would once more be what they had been. A new mistress would be taking charge.

The next morning dawned cold and misty. Gaston had fallen asleep on the sofa in the great hall, he woke up stiff and cold for the fire had gone out. He sat up and looked around, then remembered his plans for the day. Excitement filled him, and he ran to the mirror on the wall to straighten his hair and make sure he was presentable for the ride to town. He didn't bother with the fire; the women could build them when they came to clean later. He headed out to the stable.

Gilles was still asleep in the keeper's quarters of the stables but came flying out of bed when a fist the size of a shovel pounded on his door.

"Gilles, Gilles," Gaston's voice boomed through the heavy wooden door "Get up, I say! I need you to straighten up the garden, get the sheep to graze on the lawn, and try to do something with the trees, they are terribly overgrown. I don't know what I pay you for, the place is a mess! I will be back this evening, and I want this yard to resemble the old days, understand?"

Gilles stood in the middle of the room in his bed cloths trembling, not from cold but sheer fright from the monstrous wake up. His life had been easy; Gaston hardly ever stayed there, and as long as Gilles took care of Gaston's black stallion, Tristan, he could relax. Gilles got dressed then opened the door to the stalls, Gaston was saddling Tristan.

"I'm going to the village, I'll be sending some women to clean the lodge. Till tonight." Gaston leaped onto the magnificent stallion and galloped away.

Gilles was at an absolute loss. Never before had Gaston cared what the grounds looked like, yet now he was sending women over to clean? It was too much. Gilles whistled for the sheep dog to come, and together they went to the south pasture to bring the sheep to the yard to graze.

* * *

The sun crested the eastern hills as Belle left the house, the sunlight warmed her face. The birds that had sung to her as she had made the candles greeted her merrily. The sky was still misty creating a golden glow around the already vibrant autumn landscape. The Hetre's leaves had turned to vibrant auburn, in fact all the trees were changing colors, and with their golds, reds and greens, they made the countryside stunningly beautiful. The grass was alive again, thanks to the rain storms that had passed through last month, and in all the fields she could hear the blithe tinkling of the cow bells as cattle and sheep walked out to the fields to graze.

She walked down the lane that lead to the village feeling light-hearted for the dreaded candles were done and hardening in the kitchen ready to be stored away for the winter. With the booksellers book in her basket, ready to be returned, she was all set to start her morning errands. The dirt lane ended at the bridge, turning into the cobbled road that lead through the village. As she crossed the bridge she stopped and looked down at the town, shops of all kinds stood tall, lining the still quiet streets.

As Belle walked into town she glanced in the windows of the shops seeing the shop keepers busy finishing up their morning routines and getting ready for the day of customers. The butcher was behind his counter, wiping the marble countertop clean of any dust that might have settled there over night. He looked up and saw her "Bonjour mademoiselle". Behind her on the other side of the street, Madam Comtois, was shaking out her rugs from her upstairs window and also greeted Belle. Smiling, Belle bowed her head in acknowledgment and hurried on. As she passed the bakery, the baker, a friendly man who thought kindly of Belle, was getting his plate of fougasse bread ready to make his deliveries-, the same bread and deliveries he made every morning, thought Belle.

"Good morning Belle. Where are you off to this fine morning?"

Belle was excited to be asked. She couldn't wait to share the story that had set her imagination dancing last night, giving her pleasant dreams of adventure."The book shop! I just finished the most marvelous story-, an old fairy tale about a beanstalk and a giant ogre who lives in the clouds and-"

But before she could finish the baker cut her off with a dismissive "Thats nice, Belle." and, turning to his daughter, who was in the shop, he yelled "I need the baguettes, Marie! Hurry up!"

Belle just smiled and turned to go. That was life in this town.

As she made her way through the village, she watched the streets fill up with people out gathering what they needed for the day. Belle laughed as a farmer's son lost control of one of the pigs he was driving to the butcher for slaughter and started to chase after it, only to find the pig having other ideas. The streets had started to get busy as the morning warmed the cobblestones. Everywhere people greeted each other, shop owners and customers were haggling, the fish and fruit mongers walked up and down trying to interest people in buying. Everywhere were signs of the rich harvest, wagons of pumpkins and gourds, corn neatly stacked, bins of potatoes and barrels of apples. Belle passed the delicatessen, and the smell of fine cheese and meats brought back memories of her childhood. The owners were a funny couple; Monsieur Genin, a small timid little man and his wife who towered over him in height and authority.

The streets were beginning to become so full with people and carts that Belle was having a hard time making her way and had a flash of inspiration. A traveling merchant drove his cart through the lane, Belle jumped up onto the back of the cart, grabbing hold of the railings of the ladder, and was carried though the crowds quite easily. She could hear the driver calling out greetings to the people he passed. One girl he greeted, Belle knew to be Sofie, the wife of the metal worker. She smiled at Belle as she walked by. Belle had gotten to know Sofie, this past summer, when she picked up things for her father at the blacksmiths, and had really been impressed with her. Sofie was always the one to take her orders and Belle liked her quiet spirit and laughing eyes and had tried to become friends with her. But Sofie was busy with domestic life and a coming baby, and didn't have time to talk for much longer then it took to take down an order. Belle shivered at the thought of being tied down to a husband in this little village, never seeing or doing anything new. Poor Sofie.

The cart passed a poor women trying to buy eggs. She held three crying infants in her ams and a small child of about two clung to her skirts while her oldest four were running up and down the streets screaming and bumping the people who were walking by. Yes, there has to be more then this provincial life! Belle thought.

When the cart came to the bookshop, Belle jumped down. The bell rang above her as she opened the door. "Ah Belle," Monsieur Chartier greeted Belle with surprise in his voice as she handed him the book. "Finished already? I told you there was no hurry."

"Good morning. Oh, Monsieur, thank you for the loan. I really had a hard time putting it down, I enjoyed it so. And now I would like to treat myself, for I finished the dreaded candles this morning. Have you gotten anything new?"

He laughed. "Not since yesterday."

"Thats all right. " Belle went over to the shelves and pulled out a somewhat worn copy of Lady Ann. "I will borrow this one." She handed it to him.

He looked at it with a puzzled expression. "That one? How many times have you read it? Twice?"

"Well, it really is my favorite. The adventure of far-off places, sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise! It thrills me to my finger tips!"

"Well, if you like it all that much it is yours to keep."

Belle tried to argue but he had none of it-.

Belle beamed "Well thank you! Thank you very much!"


	7. Little Town Part 2

Gaston left the lodge and headed straight for the livery. He left Tristan safely secured in a stall. Then he went to the that tavern to shave and make plans. The streets were empty save for the owners of the shops getting ready to open their doors for customers. The tavern was located in the center of the village. The square outside had the water fountain which brought the women of the village to do the families' washing, and collect water for the household as well as providing drink for the animals.

Gaston walked by, not noticing any of the mornings beauty and burst through the tavern doors. The thundering of Gaston's entrance startled the sleeping Lefou, and he fell off the bar stools that were serving as a bed. He sleepily got to his feet, rubbing his rear end, which had taken the brunt of the fall.

"LeFou." Gaston never wasted time with pleasantries with his old friend and partner. "I need you to find two or three women, who can clean a house quickly, and send them to the hunting lodge to get it ready for me to move into."

Lefou gaped at Gaston. "You want me to do what? Why?"

"I don't have time to waste explaining details to you. Go!" Gaston yelled. "When you're done meet me in my room upstairs, We have a lot to do this morning."

Lefou, wiped the sleep from his eyes, then ran out the door.

Gaston bounded up the stairway, taking the steps three at a time. In his bed chamber he brushed his ebony hair back from his forehead and clubbed it with a black ribbon. He then washed and shaved his face, making sure not a bristle was left on his silken skin. He pulled his dress clothes from the wooden wardrobe. He wasn't sure if he should dress in them quite yet. He knew his gold colored waistcoat trimmed with lace was stunning especially when worn with his wine colored coat with the gold buttons. But he didn't want to set the town's people talking quite yet; his was going to be a surprise for everyone. He laid aside the waistcoat, he would put on just before the wedding. He put on instead a red shirt, wrapped a black leather belt around his lean waist, put on a clean pair of black breeches, and pulled on his second pair of boots, the ones he had just taken off were muddy from the morning's ride. He didn't bother to put on a cravat; they were itchy and restrictive. Maybe for the wedding, when he changed, for now open neck would be alright.

After he finished dressing he headed down stairs to organize the scene. His plan was to find Belle and bring her back here. He would show her the wall of head mounts that were the pride of his heart and while she was admiring them, he would give her the thrill of her lifetime by informing her that of all the girls in the village, she was the lucky one he had chosen to be his wife. It was all so clear in his mind. After she had blushed and wept for joy at her dreams coming true, he would have Lefou go and gather his friends to have a celebratory drink. Then the the priest would be brought in, and they would marry. He and Belle could be on their way to his house in just a few hours' time.

Just then Lefou returned, breathless from running. "I did it, Gaston! Old lady Bissit and her daughter and Madame Lemieux, all three of them are headed to the lodge right now. Now tell me, Gaston, where were you last night and what in the world is going on now?"

Gaston didn't answer but simply headed out the door. Lefou followed him. Lefou had been Gaston's partner for years. He mostly organized the orders that came for venison and furs and did the delivering. He enjoyed a few hunting trips with Gaston in the autumn, but mostly stayed in town. He was of average frame and height but was dwarfed in comparison by the sheer size of Gaston.

Gaston headed to Belle's house to get her, but as he passed his brother's shop he spotted her. She was talking to a woman across the road. Gaston stopped to watch and Lefou almost ran into him, Gaston turned around and pointed Belle out to Lefou.

"You see that girl over there?"

"The inventors daughter?"

"She's the one! the lucky girl I'm going to marry."

Lefou was taken aback. Never had Gaston talked about getting married. He loved his life, free from the burdens of domestic life and had often said as much. Lefou tried to voice his surprise not only at Gaston wanting to get married but also at his choice. Yesterday he didn't even know who this girl was, yet today he claimed he was going to marry her? Lefou's mind filled with questions. Had Gaston asked her? Had she said yes? Did Gaston know how odd she and her father where?

"But she's-"Lefou started.

Gaston cut him off, finishing the statement "…the most beautiful girl in town! That makes her the best. And don't I deserve the best?" He shot Lefou a look just daring him to challenge that.

"Yes, I mean she is, but are you-"

Gaston interrupted again. "From the moment I met her-, no, wait I don't remember meeting her… From the moment I saw her yesterday I was impressed with how gorgeous she was and I fell in love right then. Lefou, she is the only girl in town who can hold a candle to me. You know how I out shine most of the girls here, but she's different. So I made up my mind I would woo and marry Belle."

"So you haven't asked her yet?"

"Nope. I was just on my way to bring her back to the tavern to ask her there. Then I need you to gather the men so they can drink a toast to me, then we can arrange the wedding."

Gaston looked up from talking to Lefou and found he had lost track of Belle- she was gone. He turned around looking up and down the streets impatiently he wanted to ask her soon. A drink sounded good and he wanted to get on with the day. It wasn't long before he spotted her, obviously on her way home, a book in-front of her nose. It irritated him to see the book. He had expected her to be on the look out for him, especially after last night's wonderful meal. He had complemented her, played the gentleman and told of his amazing hunting prowess (which showed what a great provider he would be), and demonstrated how strong he was. After all, he had been sure he was going to see her looking up and down the streets searching for him. Oh well. He was just going to have to be firm about the reading.

* * *

Belle couldn't wait to get home to read Lady Ann.

The heroine Lady Ann's noble qualities reminded her of her mother, and the story filled her with hope, excitement, sadness, and laughter. The story was old but it had been only in the last hundred years that an author had put it on paper. The story was about a princess who had been cursed at her christening to be ordinary, not by an evil fairy, but a very temperamental and unpredictable one. She grew into an awkward youth with mousy brown hair, green eyes and freckles, not at all like her sisters with their peaches and cream complexions and golden hair. When Ann had grown into a young women she ran away from the castle, exhausted from the weeping of her ladies in waiting and the disappointment of her parents in having the first plain daughter after centuries of beauty. Anne left her home-land and traveled with gypsies, seeing all kinds of places and meeting strange and exciting people. One man in particular, became her special friend. He had been given a mysterious mission, and Ann helped him carry it out. The story ended with a happy marriage. The strange young man was really a prince, and Ann and he lived happily ever after in his castle, occasionally going to far off places just to keep life interesting.

Belle knew it was just a story, but there had to be something in-between her life and the fairy tale. She read as she made her way to the blacksmith shop stopping just long enough to collect some silver wire and three specially-threaded bolts from Royden and crossing the street to take an order for some chicken eggs from Madame Larue. When she was finished, she opened her book and started for home.

Before she knew it she was in-front of the butcher's shop again and in sight of her house. As she finished her page she was startled to see someone in front of her.

"Hello Belle," a deep voice cooed at her.

Oh no! It was Gaston! She looked up at him from her book, What was he doing away from the tavern? She greeted him as politely as she could and tried to walk past him, hoping he would get the hint. Alas, no luck. He grabbed the book from her hands and held it up to his eyes, then flipped through the pages as if looking for something.

"I don't see what the big draw to these books are. Belle, it's time you gave up your reading. The whole town is talking about it. Besides there are more important things to be thinking about." He threw her book down, and to Belle's horror, it landed, in a puddle. He stepped in front of it, blocking her as she tried to reach for it. She looked up at him with loathing

"Belle, it's not good for a women to read. Maybe once in a while in the privacy of her own home after her families' needs have been taken care of, but to read openly on the streets is scandalous!"

Belle moved around Gaston and picked up her dripping book. She carefully started to dry it off with her apron. What was this man talking about? Something about what women were and were not supposed to do.

"Gaston you are positively primeval." Maybe an insult would get her away from this man.

He just laughed as if she had told him "You are positively the handsomest man in the world!" He was so stolid, so dense.

She turned to go but he caught her arm and started to lead her back toward town.

"Let's say you and I take a walk over to the tavern and and take a look at my trophies?"

Belle was shocked. No gentleman, no matter how dense asked a lady into a tavern. She thought fast for an excuse. Her father would be leaving soon and probably needed the silver wire and bolts.

"Please Gaston, I can't." She untangled herself from his arm. "I have to get home to help my father. Good bye."

Just then Le Fou walked up, and overhearing her, he started to laugh. "That crazy old loon. Yes, you better get home, he needs all the help he can get!" He and Gaston started to laugh loudly.

Belle stopped, and spun around to face them, her eye flashed, "Don't you dare say that about my father! You don't know anything about him." Gaston stopped and looked at Belle, but Le Fou kept laughing.

Then she turned around and ran towards her house.

Gaston pushed Lefou aside. He started to laugh again from the sheer irony of Belle's reaction. Here was Belle, on the day all her dreams were going to come true worried about her father. Just wait until she was his wife, she would laugh at how silly she had been to worry about anyone other than him"

He turned and started back toward the heart of town, not at all upset by Belle's refusal to follow him. No, it would be better to assemble the town for a wedding and then surprise Belle with a proposal.

He turned around and looked up the road at the land around Maurice's cottage.

"Yes." he thought as he saw the shaded ground just outside the front door. "Perfect! Flat and picturesque, surrounded by trees, some still green as spearmint. It would be the perfect spot for his wedding ceremony."

Turning back towards the village he spotted the baker returning to the bakery after making his morning deliveries. Gaston smiled. It was time to make an order.

* * *

With tears stinging her eyes, Belle turned and ran home, deeply hurt by Lefou's unkind words and both men's laughter.

She went straight down to the cellar, her father's workshop. The big room spanned the length and width of the house, with a huge brick oven at the center of the western wall. Maurice had spent a great deal of money creating the room exactly how he wanted it. A giant iron cauldron, used to soften metal, rested over the flames of the oven, and a giant lathe with a "grate wheel" was in the corner. He had many homemade tools, ranging from from a pump drill and bow drill to the hand-held cabinetmakers' divider. His tool chest was fully stocked and fit for the finest craftsman, but Maurice was a firm believer that no matter how well designed or complicated a tool was, it was the man using it that created the true masterpieces. Tools just aided a creative mind and able hands.

Belle came down the steps to find a very agitated Maurice. He was obviously having trouble with the final work on the log splitter. She walked in, drying her eyes on the clean cornier of her apron, and asked, "Are you all right, Papa?"

Her father threw up his hands. "I will never get this bone-headed machine to work!" He threw a wrench at the machine, and as if in answer, the smokestack spat out smoke.

Belle couldn't help but laugh. She felt so much better being with her father, and, seeing his troubles, she forgot her own for the moment.

"Yes, you will, Papa. Together we will get this thing working right now. Remember, this is what is going to make you world-famous! I bet they may send these over to the Americas before too long."

Maurice smiled and then waved his hand at her modestly. He got down on his knees and slid under the belly of the machine."So, did you have a nice time in town today?"

"I got a new book." Belle looked at her new book, wet from its recent encounter with that pig Gaston. "Papa, do you think I'm odd?"

Maurice slid out from under the machine hearing the note of distress in his daughter's voice. "You, odd? Where would you get a notion like that?"

Belle didn't want to talk about her conversation with Gaston. "Oh, I'm just not sure I fit in here. The only one I talk to is Monsieur Chartier. I feel out of place."

"What about that Gaston fella? He sure is handsome, and he seemed to have a good time last night."

"He is handsome all right – and extremely conceited and arrogant," Belle said with more force than she meant to use. She sat down on the hearth and said softly, "Oh, Papa, he's not for me."

"Well, like I have been telling you, this machine is going to be the start of a new life for us. Let's not worry too much right now."

Belle smiled at her father. He was right. She wouldn't worry.

By the end of the morning they had the machine running smoothly. An over-sized axe head on a steel shaft was spring-loaded. When the shaft hit full pressure the shaft would be released falling into the log splitting it into manageable fire wood. A log rack then caught the wood so the operator could pick it up without bending down. All this was fueled by coal.

Maurice stood back looking at the invention. A year of work and even longer of dreams was over. The machine stood there, shiny and new, working better then he had even dreamed.

There was little time to feel proud, however. He had to load it in the cart and pack it up for the journey, Belle went up into the kitchen to prepare a meal for his long ride to the fair. At last he was off, riding their old dray horse, Philippe, with the cart and log splitter carefully hitched behind.

Belle waved from the front yard, watching her father and his dream ride off in the warm afternoon light. As he rode past the bridge and into the woods toward the village that hosted the fair, her hand fell to her side.. She smiled to herself, filled with pride for her Papa. His life had fallen to pieces when Mama had died, but now here he was. He had picked up the pieces and put them back together the best he could. And now he had finally done what he had always dreamed of doing. A new dawn had come to her father's life, she was sure of it, and she couldn't wait to see where it led. Maybe he was right after all: maybe it would be a new life for them. Would they have to move to a larger city to distribute the machines more easily? Maybe Lyons or maybe - her heart quickened with delight at the very thought - Paris! Who knew? But in the meantime, she had chores to do.

She headed out to the barn to straighten the tack and clean out the manure from Philippe's stall. She shoveled it onto the heap next to the garden, to be tilled into the ground next spring. Then she went to the field to bring in the three goats from their tethers and brought them to the lean-to to rest and chew their cud in the shade. She then headed to the chicken's hutch to hunt eggs. Once the chores outside were done, she went into the kitchen to straighten up the dinner dishes, then went into the sitting room to stack the candles and put them away. The front fire had gone out, but Belle left it alone. Later she would build it up and start it using embers from the cook's fire, but for now all she wanted to do was lose herself in her book. She settled down on her chair with a pillow against her back and started Lady Ann where she had left off on her way home.


	8. Proposal

_They rode out together from the shadows of the trees, leaving the camp of their gypsy friends and the glowing torch of the dying fire behind them, and spurred away across the flat lands towards the mountains... Ransom's secretive behavior had brought sorrow to Ann. His usually twinkling eyes were now hard with agony. _

_She longed to give him comfort, even if it was only to take his hand in her own, but she knew if she advanced in any way, he would have _retreated into himself more

_ It was his mission, his alone, and all she could do was wait, being thankful he had let her come with him. After the lonely pair had crossed into the hills of Ingishbor, Ransom turned to Ann, his eyes soft again like blue silk, and he began to explain. "Many years ago, while I was still in my father's house, an-"_

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Belle looked up from her book, startled by the heavy knock on the door. Who could that be? Visitors were a rarity. It wouldn't be Papa; he wouldn't knock. She got up from her chair, walked to the door, and took the false window from its place on the wall. She looked through it to see the visitor. Two large blue eyes looked back at her. She pushed the machine away from her eyes and groaned. Gaston - again! What did he want?

She unlatched the handle, but before she could get her hand on the wood of the door, Gaston had let himself inside. Belle noticed that he was dressed differently than he had been when he had talked to her that morning. Instead of his usual attire, he wore the wine-colored coat that he wore to the village dances and to Mass, the few times a year he went.

"Gaston? What a..."Belle searched for something to say to cover her surprise to see him here- again. "...pleasant surprise," Belle said, trying to be polite.

"Isn't it though?" Gaston agreed smugly. "I'm just full of surprises."

She backed away as he advanced into the room.

"You know, Belle, there isn't a girl in town who wouldn't _love_ to be in your shoes!" He went on, retracing his steps from last night, going straight to the low boy and checking his reflection in the mirror. After a moment of preening, completely forgetting Belle was in the room, he looked up from his reflection and saw Belle standing near. "Ah, Belle, yes." He gathered his thoughts to go on. "This is the day your dreams come true."

Belle was confused. "What do you know about my dreams, Gaston?"

"Oh, plenty!" He walked over to the chair where Belle had been reading, sat down heavily, leaned back, lifted his booted feet to the table and dropped them on Belle's newly-dried open book. Kicking his boots off, he continued with his monologue. "Here, picture this: a rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting on the fire, and my little wife…" He paused, letting the image sink into Belle's mind "…massaging my feet, while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs." He did his best to describe his boyhood memories and then added, "We will have six or seven!"

He looked up at Belle waiting for her to beam and blush.

Belle, who had been distracted by Gaston's smelly feet resting on her new book, jumped when she realized he was waiting for her to reply. Six or seven? What was he talking about? "Dogs?"

"No, Belle - strapping boys, like me!" Gaston stood up to show her how strapping.

Belle seized the moment and grabbed her book, wiping it off with a rag that was lying on the fireplace. She said absentmindedly "Imagine that" as she walked to the bookcase on the wall. She gently placed her poor book on the shelf, safe from anymore attacks from this thoughtless man.

Gaston followed her to the bookcase. Patronizingly, as though addressing a small child, he said, "Do you know who that little wife will be?"

Bell's eyes widened as suddenly it all came clear: his sudden interest, this visit...he wanted her to marry him! She stalled. "Let me think."

Suddenly his massive frame was over upon her, pinning her in the corner of the room. "You, Belle!" He leaned in so his face was mere inches from hers.

The thought of Gaston embracing her made her skin crawl. She ducked under his arm and grabbed the first object she could to block Gaston's advance: her mother's rocking chair. "Gaston, I'm speechless. I really don't know what to say." She backed up against the front door.

Gaston moved towards her, knocking the rocking chair over as he pushed his way to the door. "Say you'll marry me."

The look in his eyes scared Belle. He was like a tiger, his eyes locked on his prey. She had to get him on the other side of the door.

He reached her, putting his hands on the door, one on either side of Belle's head, and leaned in to kiss her.

"I'm very sorry, Gaston." Belle reached for the door knob. "But I just don't deserve you!" With a quick twist of the knob the door flew open. Belle ducked under Gaston's arm just as his body was propelled outside, safely out of Belle's house.

A splash startled Belle as she leaned outside to grab the knob to yank the door closed. She looked over to see that Gaston had fallen into the mill pond and was sputtering in outrage. Belle was torn between trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, feeling a little guilty that she had inadvertently caused his fancy suit to get covered in mud, and simultaneously feeling he deserved it for being so pushy and arrogant. But then, a sudden burst of music drew her attention away from Gaston to the yard beyond, where she was horrified to see a hundred people staring wide-eyed at her and Gaston, while a band played a cheery wedding march. Grasping the door handle tightly, she quickly slammed the door shut.

Anger filled her. Who did he think he was? Assembling a wedding party for her right outside her door before he had even _asked_ if she would be willing to be his wife!

She looked across the room and saw his boots on the floor by the table. She marched over to get them, not wanting to give him any excuse to come back in. She picked them up, ran to the door, opened it just enough to throw the boots on the front porch, and then slammed the door closed, bolting the lock.

She leaned against the door, steadying her shaking legs. She felt weak from the surprise of it all – first the proposal and then the people outside waiting for her to come out as Gaston's bride-to-be.

Outside she could hear the people starting to murmur. How was Gaston going to talk himself out of this one, she wondered.

She took a deep breath and looked around the room. Her mother's beautiful chair lay on it's side. She went over and picked it up, looking at the intricate embroidery.

Belle remembered being seven or eight years old and watching her mother working on the cushions. Belle had been given a square of linen to embroider while her mother worked. Belle had chosen to embroider a puppy with a red ball in its mouth, but she had no talent for the delicate craft.. When she had finished the puppy, it looked more like a stiff sheep with a huge red tongue sticking out of its mouth. Discouraged, she had tossed it aside and had just sat watching her mother's beautiful hands and fingers work needle and thread into these beautiful cushions that sat before her now.

She sat down on the rocking chair and let her mind remember, something she rarely would allow herself to do. But Gaston's proposal reminded her of her first proposal, and she was taken back...

When Belle was sixteen, Mama had suddenly started caring about parties and balls, Belle didn't really mind: she loved dressing up in pretty gowns and laughing with her friends in beautifully decorated halls.

Unlike her friends, Belle had never worried about marriage. Her life was just as she wanted it,and she loved her parents: her wise father and her beautiful and vivacious mother.

Even when she first met Clement at the ball at Maison de Charmoisy and he asked her to dance, she hadn't thought much about him.

Belle loved to dance, to be surrounded with lights and colors of dress, all the while her movement being encompassed in the elegant sound of violins and cellos. The more Belle was asked to dance, the better she enjoyed her evening.

Clement had asked her for two dances right after they had been introduced. She had agreed. He was handsome and had a sweet smile and gentle manners. She had enjoyed their dances, but once the night was over, he was out of her thoughts.

A month went by before she saw him again, this time in the marketplace.

Belle had been sent to buy vegetables for their dinner and to give her some fresh air. Leanne was worried that Belle didn't get enough air and sunshine and oftentimes would interrupt Belle with an errand when she thought her daughter had read inside for too long.

Belle had filled her basket with her favorite produce and was returning home when Clement came to her side. He took off his hat and offered to carry her basket. She gladly gave up the weight on her arm, and the two shared a pleasant walk back to the Maison de Lumiere de Dans.

Leanne met the two at the door and asked Clement to dinner. Clement apologized, saying he had to return home, for he would be leaving the next morning for Lyons on business. They said good-bye at the door, Clement handed the basket to Belle and gave her hand a tiny squeeze as he bid her good-bye.

Leanne looked at Belle and smiled while she took the basket from Belle and then headed to the kitchen.

That night at supper Leanne asked Maurice what he knew of Clement.

"Well, he's a fine young man as far as I have heard," Maurice replied. "His family is in commerce. His father exports crops from the Caribbean. What makes you bring him up, my dear?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. He walked Belle home from the market today, " said Leanne innocently.

That had been the beginning. After Clement had returned from his business trip to Lyons, he had become a regular visitor at the Maison de Lumiere de Dans.

At first Belle had been very interested in Clement's past, growing up in the colonies amongst the tropical breezes and oceans the color of turquoise. But Clement didn't like to talk of it.

"Hot and smelly. Dead dogs on the streets, and flies the size of goats." was all that Belle could get out of him. After that, she had a hard time thinking of things to say to him when he visited.

Clement made it plain he was in Annecy to stay. He had been abroad enough to know that he wanted a quiet life, here in France.

It was right after Belle turned seventeen that she and her mother had their first big argument.

One afternoon Leanne surprised Belle while she was reading in her bedroom. She had a dress box in her arms and was very excited. Belle looked up at her mother from her book. Leanne opened the dress box and shook out taffeta folds of emerald green.

"Belle, I have a surprise for you! Get this dress on and meet me in my room so we can pull your hair up."

With that, Leanne was gone. Belle was getting used to her mother being excited about mysterious things. She laid her book down and called for her maid. Together they got Belle into the stiff pleated dress.

In her mother's room, Belle sat at the elaborate vanity while Leanne brushed and curled Belle's hair. "Clement is coming for dinner! Tonight is the night!"

Belle looked at her mother through the looking glass with a puzzled expression.

"Belle, Clement has asked for your hand in marriage, and your father and I have given him our permission. He will be here tonight to dine with us, and after dinner he is planning to-" Leanne didn't get any further.

Belle jumped to her feet, her mother's comb halfway down a lock of her hair.

"I won't!" Belle cried at her very startled mother. "I won't marry him! Mama, I barely _know_ him!" Belle stamped her foot. The idea of leaving her home, her papa and mama, to be married to a stranger made her sick to her stomach.

Leanne stood still, frozen with surprise.

Belle went on, gaining courage from her mother's silence. "Just because you were married at seventeen doesn't mean I have to be! I am not going to get married at _all_ unless I am to be more than just a wife. I shan't marry until someone needs me, and needs me more than just to run his household of servants!"

Leanne's usually calm persona melted away, showing her quick Gallic temperament. "That is enough, Belle! What do you expect? You are a child no longer! It is time for you to make your own way in this world!"

Belle burst into furious tears and shouted at her mother that she hated the very sight of him, to which her mother shouted back, telling her to stop being so childish!

They had never had such a argument before, and at the end of it they were both in tears.

The confrontation had upset everyone in the household. The servants tip-toed around the house preparing for the meal that was the cause of all the discomfort.

Maurice was furious at both of them. He told his wife not to worry so much about Belle's future; if she didn't want to marry Clement then for heaven's sakes, don't force the issue. To Belle he told her if she ever behaved toward her mother like a low class, ill-tempered fish monger's wife again she would find herself in a convent, where she was sure to pick up some manners!

Before Clement arrived, Leanne went to Belle's room to make peace.

She found Belle face down on her bed, not crying but sullen. Leanne sat next to her daughter's limp body and placed her hand on Belle's back.

"Ma cherie. Maybe I have allowed you to be indulged a little too much. Your father and I wanted to give you the gift of a rich childhood full of happiness and experience. We have enjoyed having you as our daughter. We have had such fun, the three of us."Leanne's soft brown eyes grew dreamy in remembrance of years gone by.

"Belle, you have a great mind and a beautiful face, but that is not enough in this world. My hope is that you will grow into a woman who does not let her heart and emotions dictate her decisions. I want you to be independent, not a slave to what the culture says is right or wrong. Now is the time to develop charity and a clear moral compass. You need both for a strong character."

She took Belle's face in her hands.

"Oh, my darling, doing what is right is often a hard and lonely path. I am a selfish mother**;** I want you to be taken care of, to be loved. This world is a cruel place to those who don't follow. And the thought of you being left alone when Papa and I are gone is so hard for me. But I have to trust that we have taught you well and give you the opportunity to make the best decision you can."

Leanne smiled at her daughter, taking her hands from her daughter's pink cheeks and laying them in her own lap.

"I thought you were fond of Clement. You know enough of him to know you will be taken care of and cherished. He is bright and kind and has a comfortable home not too far from here. So you would be able to see us whenever you wished. But Papa is right. If you do not want to marry him, I won't force you."

Belle's eyes now glowed and were no longer swollen from crying. She hugged her mother. They didn't talk of it again.

That night Clement came. He was everything a gentleman should be, refined, polite and very boring.

After dinner, when the young pair found themselves alone, Clement got down on one knee.

"Belle. I know you can only guess at what I have to ask you. From the moment I met you I have longed for only one thing- that you would become my own. You are the loveliest creature I have ever beheld. Just to watch you move from your chair to the bookshelf is a treat to my eyes. I would take care of you. You would never be in want of any comfort or privilege. Please say you will be my wife and love me forever.

Belle was moved by his loving words, but she just couldn't give up her dreams of adventure and travel to become the wife of a man who had no desire to share those dreams.

Clement took her refusal very well. He calmly bid her farewell and left her father's house.

He married another girl two months later - three days after Leanne's death.

The goats bleating outside startled Belle from her reverie. She was surprised to find tears in her eyes. Only three years ago, yet it seemed like another lifetime, like someone else's life. Here she sat in a small cottage, bare of servants, and her mother was gone forever. Her mother, whom she had tried to hang on to, was gone from this world. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the clock. 4:30. It was time to milk the goats and feed the animals. She went to the door and cautiously unbolted it and looked out.

"Is he gone?"

Not a trace of the wedding party was left. She walked out into the yard to feed the chickens, her mind returning again to the present and Gaston. At least Clement's proposal had been gentlemanly and romantic. Gaston's pushiness, his conceited assumption that of course she would be happy to slave for him and massage his feet, his arrogance in actually setting up the wedding before she'd even said "yes," and the way he'd leaned in to kiss her all made her furious.

"Can you imagine?" she said to the goats as she went into the lean-to. "He asked me to marry him. Me! The wife of that boorish, brainless man. I _can_ just picture it. His little wife indeed! Cooking, cleaning, a baby every year until I am white headed and bent over! Then what would he do with me? When I'm useless and unattractive, no longer would he be able to show off his trophy of a wife."

She milked the goats, all the time stewing over her anger at Gaston. _I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't encourage his advances..if that is what you can call them! Why couldn't he just leave me alone? He has the pick of any girl in town, after all!_

She finished milking, set the bucket down, and walked down the hay field towards the river. The sun was setting and the skies were a rainbow of color, pinks and golds with blues and purples in the east, the clouds ablaze with the light. The vastness of the view filled her heart. With longing, she imagined constructing wings and flying towards the sun, just as the master craftsman Daedalus and his son had.

The breeze had picked up, and it blew on her face, cooling her flushed cheeks. She looked up to the sky and said to whoever was listening, "I want adventure somewhere in the great world. I can't explain it, but I want so much more then what they have planned for me. You gave me these desires - please give me the patience to wait for them and the courage to make them come true."

Just then a crashing came out of the thicket behind her. She turned and was shocked by what she saw.

Philipe ran down the hill to where Belle had been standing. His eyes were wide showing the whites, froth dripped down the reins that hung loose from his bit, and his coat was shinny from sweat. He still pulled the cart and log splitter, but the seat of the wagon was empty.

Belle grabbed the reins and tried to calm the terrified horse while a dozen questions leaped to her mind. But she voiced her biggest concern.

"Where's Papa?" Then as the situation became clearer in her mind she asked with greater force. "Where is he Philipe?" Belle ran to the cart and looked under the machine just to make sure her father hadn't fallen backwards and gotten pinned under it. He wasn't there.

Frantically Belle unhitched the wagon and brought the horse to the small stable. She left the horse in his stall with water and just enough oats to be refreshed and ran to the house to get her cloak. The wind was really picking up and she didn't want to risk being out in the woods without some covering if a storm blew in.

In just a few minutes she and the horse were on their way to the great forests of the Alps.


	9. A Young Prince

**Author's Note:** Hello readers, I hope you have enjoyed the story so far. Please excuse the interruption, but I wanted to give you a little background to this next chapter, it's different from the movie.

At the beginning of summer when I first was playing with the idea of writing a story for FanFiction, and decided to do B and the B I wasn't sure what to do with the prince's curse. I never could understand why one so young would be cursed so harshly (other then the child audience could better identify with a younger hero). And then wouldn't a country miss it's prince? And I just didn't know how to deal with all the magic of a cursed beast. After a lot of thought on the subject this story came to my mind. My hope is that I have stayed true to the original Disney "feel" (that you hear David Ogden Stiers narrating as you read), and also believable in a world were Belle makes her own candles. :-)

~ _Appréciez et faire la critique (enjoy and please review)_

And while I have your attention, one last thing- I want to thank TrudiRose for being my long-suffering beta! I can promise you that this story wouldn't be half as enjoyable without her help. Thank you Trudi! I value your ideas, humor and critiques so much. Thanks for helping me become a better writer!

* * *

One cold night a penniless duke invited a passing stranger into his poor and dingy manor out of the chill.

Over a poor meal of boiled turnips the nobleman told of the oppression of the people who lived under the king. Poverty kept the lower nobles and peasants tilling the earth to provide their own bread, while the king took ten percent for himself and lived in endless bounty and grandeur. The nobleman told of how things would be different if he had one tenth the money the king had.

He looked at his sleeping son lying in a wooden bassinet. Tears filled his eyes. His wife, the baby's mother, had been the king's niece, a princess, but she had died only days before, when the child had been born. No help had been sent when the king had been told of her condition. Now the duke was left with an infant who was starving to death before his very eyes, there being no cow, goat, or mother to give his baby milk.

He shared with the stranger the wish he had for his son: that he would live to be grand, rich, and powerful.

The stranger asked if those things were more important than love. For strength and wealth would only do good if behind them was a loving and generous heart.

The nobleman agreed, for if the king were loving and generous, his precious wife might still be alive.

The stranger asked what a person should do with the gifts of wealth and power, for greater responsibilities rest on the shoulders of those who posses such.

The duke said that if he possessed such gifts, he would follow the law of charity, bringing good to the province he ruled and teaching his son also to do these things.

The stranger left after the meal. The next morning, in the formerly empty stable, there miraculously stood a cow, her udders FULL of milk.

The next autumn, the nobleman's harvest was the richest it had ever been and it brought him great wealth. He invested the wealth, and that begot him even more, until he was the richest man in the land.

But instead of helping the people of his province and sharing his fortune as he had told the stranger he would, he hoarded it. He watched without interest as those under his rule lived in filth and continued to starve. In time, the now-powerful duke became suspicious of even his friends, and without warning would have his guards seize and kill anyone whom the duke had the smallest complaint with.

The duke built a great castle in the middle of the noble forests to signify his wealth and power. He dedicated it to his son.

A great bridge spanned a great river that led to the castle. Stone was laid up on stone until it seemed to touch the sky. Marble was imported and carved into any number of pillars, fireplaces, statues and staircases lined with elaborately carved wooden banisters. Precious stones, gold, and silver were used throughout the castle. The rooms included over one hundred bed chambers, a library containing a tremendous amount of books that lined the walls from the high ceiling to the marble floors, an immense dining hall, elaborate kitchens. But the crowning glory of the castle was the ballroom, decorated with sapphires and also gold that had been hammered into sheets thin as paper. The entire castle was rich beyond belief.

Servants were hired from near and far to serve the noble family.

All the while the duke's son grew healthy and head-strong.

One night, when the young prince was in his twelfth year, the duke was visited by another stranger.

That night, a drunken party filled the entrance hall. Men and women only of the highest birth and greatest wealth had been invited by the duke, and were happily engaged in eating, drinking, and spending the night in all sorts of merriment and frivolity.

Well into the party, the maitre' d came to the duke and informed him that an old woman was at the door, asking to come in from the raging storm outside.

The duke looked towards the doorway and saw a bent and disfigured women with a radiant rose in her hand. He and his guests just laughed at her threadbare clothing and ugly face. He called for his son to be awakened and brought to him.

When the boy arrived, the duke stood behind his son with his hands on the boy's shoulders and addressed the crowd, who were all shouting to throw the old women out so they could continue on with the party. The Duke raised one of his hands for silence.

"Tis the boy's castle - we shall do as he wishes."

The duke leaned in, and laughing in his son's ear, told a story of long ago when the nobles would kill anyone who dared disturb their betters. The Duke asked his son if he would be the weak one to bring shame on the greatest castle ever built by letting a hag sleep there?

The boy, swept up in his father's drunken arrogance, replied that of course he would not, and ordered the old woman away.

Laughter and shouts filled the room, but the boy's ears were suddenly filled with a low and soft voice that seemed to come from nowhere. "Do not be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within."

The boy was mystified. But, anxious to please his father, he not only sent her away, but told the guards to seize her and throw her out bodily.

As the guards came close to the old woman, a flash like lightning crashed through the hall, making everyone cover their eyes. When the light faded, the old woman was gone, and in her place there stood a beautiful, unearthly woman dressed in brilliant green. Her eyes were like a meadow full of grass and flowers, alive with color and movement. Her golden hair reached her ankles and blew around her, creating an illusion of wings. She stood taller than the tallest man in the room. Indeed, she was a great and terrible sight that sent fear into the deepest crevice of each person's heart.

All the laughter and mocking that had just a moment ago filled the room now turned to terrified silence. She looked at the Duke and spoke in a voice wiser then the ages.

"Years ago YOU made a wish for your son to live to become the most noble and wealthy in all of the land, and with that wish, you made a promise. You were granted your wish, but coldly reneged on your promise. You took a poor land and turned it into a prison and a grave. Your people live in fear of their lives. You have taken away the little they had, and look at what you have done with it! Misery and despair far more than what they suffered at the hands of the king have been all that your people have known under your rule.

"And look what else you have done," She lifted her arm, white as ivory, and pointed to the duke's son. "You have turned your most precious gift into a monster."

She stared coldly at the duke. "How do you plead? For the evidence is before me."

The Duke fell to his knees, weeping and begging for mercy.

"You will be shown the same mercy that you showed so many who died for no reason at your sword," the enchantress declared. " You have no excuse! You who passed judgment on the King and in your own turn have done far worse. Because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you have stored up wrath against yourself, and now you shall repay each person according to what you have done. You have chosen to take this gift, and in return you have become self-seeking, rejecting the truth to follow evil. So now, with your life you will pay for the lives you have taken."

At her words, the nobleman dropped dead before all the assembly. The son knelt sobbing by his father's body. People scattered, knocking each other over as they scrambled to get out of the doorways.

After a few moments of chaos, the only ones remaining in the room were the young prince and the castle's most loyal servants.

The enchantress addressed the boy. "Your father was punished because he did evil knowingly. But you did it out of love for your father. Blackness is all you have known. Greed, anger, malice have consumed your heart. I leave you with a lesson, young prince: you will keep your riches and power, but as your heart is, so will you become. Yet I will leave you with three gifts. Your face – not in a mirror, but in a painting, to remind you who you were and show you who you might have become. This rose..." She held up the rose that had been in the old beggar's hand..."as a reminder of how your heart should be. And finally, a mirror that will allow you to see the outside world and the pain your father caused, so you will know that he met with justice. The mirror will give you great pain, but it will also bring your final hope. Use it wisely, young prince."

She looked to the servants who were kneeling next to the stricken prince. "Anyone who stays with him will be changed. He must learn this lesson for himself. You have a choice to make."

And with the sound of thunder she was gone.

In her wake she left behind a monster. Fur of the crawling things that roamed the earth covered his now distorted body. Fangs, horns, claws. A boy no more.

The servants changed to became true to their characters as well. No longer flesh and blood, but household objects.

The prince fell to the floor, crying and begging for life to be returned as it had been just moments before. Finally, exhausted from his tears and pleading, the prince picked himself up and walked to his father's room in the west wing of the castle.

In the room the prince found a painting – a painting of himself as he had been before the curse had descended upon him. Golden hair framed a beautiful face, a greek nose sat over soft lips that held not a hint of a smile, and piercing eyes the color of sapphires under long straight brows looked back at the beast without sympathy.

On a table was a single rose suspended in air, blooming with light. Also on the table was a mirror to show him the world outside, the misery his father had created, and also what might have been.

Years passed. Ten years? A hundred years? He didn't know. Time had no meaning. The only sign of the passage of time was the portrait, which magically aged, even though the beast didn't. In the portrait, the young boy grew into a handsome man – the man he might have become, if only things had been different. As the years passed, the beast watched the portrait, saw what he might have been, and wept.


	10. Sacrifice

"When you're way up high

And you look below

At the world you left; And the things you know,

Little more than a glance

Is enough to show

You just how small you are."

-_Jack Spriggins_

* * *

It was a terrifying ride. Belle expected to see her father laying in a heap around each turn. The trees, being so high up in the mountains, had lost their leaves weeks ago, and the branches stood like skeletons against the stormy night sky.

Thankfully, as the storm clouds raced through the sky, a full moon shown down brightly now and then, keeping Belle and Philipe at least on the road. But which road? And where were they going?

What had Papa been doing in this part of the country?

She and Philipe had passed the turn for the fair hours ago. The horse had been stubborn: he wanted to go this way, so she had given him the reins, hoping that he would retrace the steps he had taken with his master earlier that day.

_That day._

Had it been only this morning that she had made candles?

It seemed like a week ago, a month ago even. So much had happened since then. And now her father was lost, far from home.

Now and then Belle could see horse and wagon tracks that were fresh, so she knew that someone had come this way recently. She prayed it had been her father.

Another hour went by, and Belle knew they were fearfully high up in the Alps. There was no sign of her father except the same tracks that showed themselves in the marshy patches on the dirt road left from the recent rain shower. The wind had picked up, and Belle knew rain was coming again.

Shivering, she called out, "Papa? Papa?" Her voice sounded loud in her ears, but was immediately carried away by the wind and sheer vastness of the woods. No answer met her ears but the roaring of the wind.

Suddenly Belle realized she hadn't seen the tracks for a long time. Her heart started to pound and her throat closed in panic. Those tracks had been her only hope; without them she had nothing, no idea where to even start looking. Her mind started to race, and she had to get down from the horse's back to steady her nerves and make sure she didn't fall.

_Get hold of yourself, Belle! Now think. He may have just fallen off and maybe it spooked Philipe making him run home. Maybe Papa is home right now, wondering where I am! _

Now having a plan, Belle felt better and got back up on the horse. As she turned the horse's head toward home, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She looked and spotted a shape high up in the distance. It was tall and pointed. It was hard to see in the dark and it was so far away. She squinted her eyes trying to focus on what it was. It was no use; trees blocked her view. But she could tell just by the outline against the sky that it was not a mountain.

"Well, Philipe. should we go see what that is?"

Together horse and rider made their way through the thick brush and understory up to this mysterious shape. Belle could only get glimpses of the shape a few times, but never enough to figure out what it was. The closer they came to it, the more she realized how incredibly huge this thing was.

Up and up they climbed until at last the forest cleared into a road. They followed the road and eventually came to gigantic cast iron gates.

Beyond them was a bridge that spanned a river and on the opposite side of the bridge an enormous castle stood. It was unlike any castle Belle had ever seen before.

She had grown up looking at the Chateau de Bernard Menthon across Lac Anccey. The chateau was a beautiful stone castle, tall and broad, with seven towers. But what was in front of her took her breath away. Thirty-foot tall stone walls stood on either side of the gates and ran down the hills from the road. The castle itself was colossal. Countless towers and wings were stacked one atop the other, all pointing to the sky. Belle looked up and would not have been surprised if the highest peaks were covered in cloud.

Belle tried to remember, had she ever heard of there being a castle around these parts? No, she didn't remember anyone mentioning it to her or hearing others talk about one. She had no idea if it was abandoned. If not, who lived here?

Then she remembered Papa. He may have seen the castle from the distance as well and had come for shelter.

Just then, far off, came a long and lonely cry of a wolf. Philipe started to bolt. Belle was off of him like a shot and held the reins firmly as she calmly soothed the horse. She couldn't let herself panic. She led the horse to the gate and found it was open. She let out a sigh of relief. Letting the horse and herself in, she shut the gate behind her, relieved to hear the click of the metal latch; no wolves could get in now. Turning toward the castle, her eyes fell on an object on the road: a brown leather hat. PAPA'S HAT! She stooped to pick it up. He had to be here!

Relief flooded over her, only to be replaced with a new fear.

What was this place? With one danger locked away on the other side of the gate, she now realized she knew nothing of what lay before her in that dark castle. However, fear would have to wait. She had to find her father.

The bridge that spanned the river was the only way from the wood to the castle. As Belle led Philipe across it, she realized that the castle had been built on the only rise in a valley. This created a perfect island. Once across, Belle observed that the grounds around the castle were quite extensive. Stables stood on the right side of the castle, and Belle counted twenty stalls on just one side. She looked back at Philipe. He was dripping sweat, and his ears were laid back, listening to the sounds behind them in the forest.

_That is good!_ thought Belle. _He is more concerned about the wolves than about whatever is here._ Maybe the place has been abandoned after all, and Papa is just sitting inside the front hall, resting.

Belle took Philipe to the stables and locked him in a stall. All was dark, but the stalls were surprisingly clean. Belle knew Philipe needed some water. She hurriedly found a bucket and the water pump, filled the bucket, and hung it from the wall hook in Philipe's stall. The horse drank thirstily.

With the horse taken care of, she hurried to the castle entrance and walked up the marble steps to the front door. It stood slightly ajar. She took a deep breath, praying her father would be just inside. Placing her hand on the door, she pushed it open.

The door opened to an enormous hall. Four doorways led to four different wings. A massive marble stairway led up to a second story, and above that an open passage ran from left to right. The incredibly high, domed ceiling was intricately laid with a mosaic of gold and emerald tiles. Stone gargoyles sat at the banisters, warding away any strangers that found themselves here.

Belle stepped inside, and the hair on her arms stood up as she looked around. The very air was unwelcoming - hostile even.

She looked around- No sign of her father.

Hesitantly she called out "Papa?!"

Her own voice echoing off the walls was all the answer she received. Belle crossed the hall, treading on carpet as red as blood, and started up the marble staircase.

How many corridors, halls and stairways she walked, she was never able to remember afterwards. Her heart jumped to her throat as she passed dark open marble doorways. Marble pillars lined marble halls. Everything was surprisingly clean and free of dust and cobwebs, but not a soul did she see.

As Belle walked down a corridor, high up in the castle, she passed a wooden door, it creaked. Startled, she turned and watched as it slowly swung open. Belle swallowed the urge to scream. Instead, she cautiously called, "Papa?"

Not a breath of a word replied. But as she went into the room that had opened to her, she saw a light disappearing around a winding staircase. There was someone there!

"Wait! I am looking for my father! I..." Her voice trailed off as she rounded the stairs. No one was there. How odd! She _knew_ she had seen a light moving. She decided to climb the stairs. Up and up she climbed, calling for her father. Just as she came around the last curve into the tower, a familiar voice called to her.

"Belle?" The voice was weak and followed by a fit of coughing. Papa!

A single torch lit the cold stone room. Rain had dripped through the roof, and the whole place was terribly damp, making the room all the more cold. Belle could just make out iron doors lining the walls. Each door had a small barred window. Horror swept over Belle as she realized this was a dungeon.

An arm reached out from between the bars of a door and Belle ran to it, lifting the torch off the wall as she went by. With her free arm she grabbed her father's hand. It was cold as ice and made her shiver.

With chattering teeth, Mauricee asked how she had found him.

Belle didn't waste time explaining. "Oh, Papa! Your hands are like ice. We have to get you out of here!"

Maurice squeezed her hand. "Belle, you must go! Leave this place!"

Belle couldn't make any sense of the situation at all. "Who has done this to you?"

"No time to explain! Go! NOW!"

Belle shook her head, and held the torch up to see if she could see keys to unlock the door hanging anywhere near. "I won't leave you! Do you know if there are keys here-"

Something grabbed Belle's shoulder and sent her flying. She could hear her father screaming for her to run, but it was too late. She landed on her stomach. The torch had flown out of her hand and landed in a puddle on the floor dosing it. A monstrous voice filled her ears and mind.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Belle scrambled to her knees, trying to get a hold of what was happening. She couldn't see anything but moving shadows. "Who's there? Who are you?"

A low growl of a voice answered. "The master of this castle."

Belle's only thought was to get her father out and the both of them on their way home.

"I have come for my father. Please, let him out! Can't you see that he is sick?"

"Then he shouldn't have trespassed here!" The force in the reply sent Belle back to the wall for support.

Nothing made any sense to her. What had Papa been doing here in the first place? And what had he done that was it such an offense to this... this person? She tried to reason with him.

"Please! I'll do anything!"

Her statement was met with a cold "There is nothing you can do." The shadow turned to leave.

Belle's mind raced. "Oh, there must be something I can do..." Then a story flashed in her mind. _A story of a girl who had the courage and love to go and fight a war as a soldier to spare her father's life. _"Wait!" The shadowy movement stopped.

She took a deep breath. "Take me instead."

The shadow turned and in a mocking tone growled, "You!" But then it seemed to change its mind. In a much softer voice than Belle had heard it speak before, it asked. "You would take his place?"

Her father exploded with rejection of the idea, but Belle went on, "If I did, would you let my father go home?"

"Yes," a raspy whisper answered her.

But first, while her father was still behind her, she had to know...

The moon had come out from behind the clouds and shown through the cracks of the roof. Pale light filtered down, pooling on the stone floor. "Come into the light."

She could sense movement before she could see anything. Then all of a sudden, the most terrifying creature she had even beheld stood before her. Fur, horns, fangs, and claws towered above her. She breathed in sharply and turned from the awful sight, clinging to her father's hands.

"No, Belle! I can't let you!" her father said into her hair. "Go home, and give me the peace to know you are safe."

All Papa's dreams came to her mind. He had just gotten to where he was about to realize them, and now this? _No, his life is worth more than mine._ She looked into her father's eyes and said, "Please understand, Papa. I love you too much to let you stay here and die!"

She freed herself from her father's grip and stood to face the beast. "You have my word."

"Done!" came the harsh reply.

The word was barely out of the monster's throat when she realized all she was giving up. She crumpled to the floor, reeling from the finality of that word.

Behind her, she could hear a metal key turning in a rusty lock, and then her father was beside her. He grabbed her hands in his.

"No, Belle! I'm old, I have lived a full life-.."

But before Papa could finish, the monster grabbed him and dragged him out of her arms as though he were a rag doll. "Wait! WAIT!" Belle reached for him.

She watched, frozen in fear, as her father was dragged away from her. She could hear him pleading with that thing, begging it not to keep her. Then...nothing.

She got to her feet and ran to the cell's small window and looked down. The vastness of the forest and mountains filled her eyes. The rain had started again, and she could see it coming down in droves, driven by the wind. Icy fear gripped her heart, and she clung to the window casement just to keep herself standing. Her eyes were wide, taking in any movement, trying to catch one last glimpse of her father. After what seemed like a long time, she spotted an odd shape making its way across the bridge. She could only imagine it was a carriage with her father inside.

Tears overtook her, and she laid her head in her arms and wept with all her heart.

It is strange how even in the deepest grieving, a mind will wander to bring a fragment of comfort. To Belle's mind came a line from the book she had read the night before from Jack Spriggins and the Enchanted Bean: At the end of the story, Jack was telling his mother about what he had felt when the giant came after him to kill him:

"Your heart is lead and your stomach stone and you're really scared being all alone... And it's then that you miss all the things you've known, and the world you've left, and the little you own. The fun is done..."

Suddenly those lines from her story were the very thoughts in Belle's own mind.

_My heart is lead and my stomach stone and I'm really scared being all alone...being all alone...alone. He didn't even let me say good-bye._

Suddenly, Belle could hear scratching on stone on the other side of the tower door, slowly getting louder.

... ... ...scratch... Then the door came open.

Belle was too lost in her own grief to be afraid now. This thing had taken her father from her, ripped him from her very fingertips! What more could he do to her? She didn't look up as the beast came to the open cell door. She could hear his breathing.

"You didn't let me say good-bye! I'll never see him again and I didn't get to say good-bye!"

She wept unashamed in front of this terrible being.

After some moments had passed, she heard him speak in a soft voice. "I'll show you to your room."

Belle looked up. Had she heard him wrong? "My room? I thought-"

"You want to-to stay in the tower?" he growled at her.

"No."

"Then follow me."

She got up and wiped her dripping nose and eyes, then followed him like one in a trance. Down the stairs, across halls, down more stairs, across great halls, up stairs. The walk to her room took so long that she started to get a handle on her situation and was even a little curious about her new surroundings. The monster in front of her held a golden candelabra, and she could see inside the ring of light that was cast from the flame. And all around, the perfect companion for the terrible monster in front of her, Gargoyles. They were everywhere, etched on the walls, standing on the railings, hanging from the ceiling. The moving light cast shadows causing their evil faces to grin and grimace. Then they would disappear entirely and lurk behind her in the darkness. Belle had been through too much that day not to doubt that they would come alive and grab her from behind. Heart racing, she ran to keep up with the light. Terrified, she kept her eyes down and thought only of her father. How long before he would be home?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the monster. "I hope you will be comfortable here, despite the unfortunate circumstances." His tone was almost...could it be...shy? Belle wondered. "The castle is your home now so feel free to wander. My home is open to you. Except-" He turned and, looking into her eyes, growled, "The west wing is forbidden."

Then, turning back, he moved on. Belle could only follow

Finally the beast stopped in front of a door. Belle looked up and saw that they were in a strangely elegant hall. Blood red velvet curtains hung from the high ceilings to the floor and doors the color of topaz stood tall against ivory walls. The beast opened one of the doors for her.

"My servants will attend you. If there is anything you desire just ask."

As Belle walked through the open door she heard another voice - one she had not heard before, with a Parisian accent. "Dinner! Invite her to dinner!"

"You will join me for dinner! That's not a request!" And with that, the monster slammed the door closed.

Overcome with fear, sadness, and disgust, Belle ran to the bed, threw herself down on the silken bedcovers, and wept until she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

A/N The poem above is from the musical Into the Woods. It is called _Giants in the Sky_. This is the best representation of the original "Jack and the Beanstalk" that I have seen. The story Belle would have read was pretty dark and, funnily enough, part of a collection of Christmas stories published in 1740.


	11. Rejection

Gaston leaned his body against the door, slowly drawing closer to Belle in anticipation of holding her in his arms and kissing her soft, yielding lips. He closed his eyes, eagerly awaiting her warm embrace... only to find the door giving way. Losing his balance, he stumbled across the threshold, tripped over the stoop, was catapulted over the water wheel on the other side of the porch, and landed face down in the mill pond. The splash of his body brought the slimy slit that settled at the bottom of the water up in a swirl around him, making the once clear water a muddy mess.

Gaston lifted his dripping head up out of the water, only to see Lefou's smiling face looking down at him. With clueless excitement, Lefou asked, "So, how'd it go?"

Gaston rose to his feet and grabbed Lefou by the throat, lifting him up and bringing the little man's face up to his. "I'll have Belle for my wife!" he growled. "Make no mistake about that!" With a quick flick of his wrist, Gaston dropped Lefou in the muddy water.

Dripping wet, Gaston stood on the bank and faced the bewildered crowd. All at once a flurry of clean handkerchiefs came at him from everywhere, and he found himself being wiped and cleaned by a crowd of murmuring men and women, all wondering what had happened. A cold fury filled Gaston and he shouted to be left alone, quieting everyone.

Tom, a tavern regular and long-time admirer of Gaston, looked down at Gaston's wet, stockinged feet.

"Oh, Gaston, let me get your boots." He headed up the porch steps, grabbed the boots, and offered them to Gaston. "Here you go."

Gaston grabbed them violently from Tom and stormed away from the wedding party, wiping mud off his face. He was outraged at the turn of events. Belle had practically thrown herself at him when he came to call, and now this? Was this her way of playing hard to get? No, she had been toying with him, making a fool of him. Well, she would regret this day!

Gaston headed straight for the tavern. Inside, Jenny, the barmaid, was polishing the silver, getting ready for the wedding to make its way here for celebratory drinks. But when Gaston entered alone, Jenny knew immediately there there had been trouble. She set the spoon she has been polishing down on the mahogany bar. "Oh. honey! Don't you worry.. I will have a hot bath ready for you in two shakes!" And with that she ran up the stairs.

After a hot bath, Gaston headed to the livery stable to get Tristan. The only thing that appealed to his bruised vanity was a ride on his horse through the open countryside. Gaston had just stepped into the stables when his brother and sister-in-law came to the doorway. They had just returned from organizing the break down of the wedding assembly.

Royden spoke first, "Come in and sit, Gaston. Sofie will make some tea."

Gaston followed them into the house, made his way to the sitting room's fire and leaned against the mantel. Royden sat silently across the room. Soon Sofie came in from the kitchen carrying a tea tray. She set it down on the table and sat next to her husband. Royden rubbed his beard with his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Sofie looked at Gaston, her dark eyes soft with worry for her brother-in-law. "Oh, Gaston, I am so sorry. What a disappointment! But you know, all may not be lost. Maybe she just needs some time. A girl likes to have time to prepare her trousseau. There are so many details to preparing a wedding, and you didn't really give her a chance to think about them. I know how much you wanted to have the wedding today, but maybe you should get to know her a little better and see how she would like to do things. She is different from the girls here - she likes to think and plan. Just from the little I know of her, I know she is very methodical."

Glaring into the fire, Gaston answered like a spoiled child, "What normal girl would want to waste her time sewing new dresses and things when I am standing right there, ready to be her bridegroom? I don't need to get to know her! She is beautiful - what more do I need to know?"

Royden watched his brother quietly. At last he spoke. "Gaston, I told you this morning when you told me your plans, it takes a lot of thought and planning to take a wife. We grew up watching Mama and Pa have a good strong partnership, but I am afraid you have forgotten the work that went into it. You like life to go your way; you always have. And from what we have seen of this girl, she does things _her_ own way as well. Would you have patience and understanding for each other's differences? It is more than outer appearances that matter when you are choosing your life partner. Gaston you have to take these things into account and I don't believe you have done that, but maybe she has."

When Gaston refused to respond, Royden went on, "You have asked her and she has refused you. Let it go at that. If you are yearning for a bride, then pick another, more suitable girl and be done with it." Royden stood up. "Well, I have work to do."

Gaston left his brother's house, still brooding. Another girl? It was out of the question! He wanted Belle and he would _have_ Belle! What did they know?!

Iin the livery stable, he saddled up Tristan and galloped out of town. The black friesian stallion's mane fell like waves of silk against his strong, shining neck. The horse's hooves stepped high, setting the feathers on his hocks dancing. Across the fields and over streams the horse and rider raced, a truly magnificent sight to see.

Gaston rode until the sun had almost set. It had helped to refresh him, but hadn't helped him to forget the afternoon's disappointment and embarrassment. Deciding he would rather be alone tonight than see everyone at the tavern, Gaston headed to the hunting lodge for the night. The winds were picking up, and he knew a storm was coming. Gaston left Tristan in the stables with Gilles, who was grinning like an idiot for some reason.

He left the stables and walked up to the front of the lodge up the red brick steps to the massive oak door. Gaston looked out to the yard. It was neat and trim. The newly grazed lawns were clean, clear of fallen leaves, and the trees that lined the path to the door had been pruned and shook their leafy heads in the breeze. Looking at the house, Gaston was surprised to see the windows sparkling clean with warm yellow light softly shining through them. The house's four chimneys all sent smoke curling up into the sky. Then he remembered. He had ordered the place cleaned this morning in order to get ready for his bride. Angry with himself for forgetting, Gaston opened the door and went into his house. Inside, the rooms were beautifully clean and smelled of fresh air, wood smoke, and melted beeswax. On every surface stood clear glass vases filled with fresh flowers of purple asters and yellow dahlias. Beeswax candles filled the rooms with soft light, giving off a romantic aura.

In the dining hall, a cheery fire gave a cozy welcome. The table had been scrubbed and waxed and was laid with sparkling china and fresh linens. Cheese, bread, grapes, and wine had been left out, ready to be eaten by the newlyweds. Gaston turned and left the room. This was too much!

Upstairs, Gaston opened the door to the master bedchamber. Clean draperies were drawn across the windows. Candles gave light from their place on the stone mantle and dresser. The washbasin was filled with clean water sprinkled with pink rose hips and petals. A bottle of champagne and two glass flutes sat on the table next to the bed. Gaston looked at the giant bed, which had been pulled ever so slightly away from the wall. The bedclothes had also been freshly laundered and they made up the bed along with brilliant white lace and cream-colored linen that had been laid artistically away from the plump goose feather pillows in a seductive way.

Sickened, Gaston turned and left the room. He walked down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. He headed for the stables again.

A smiling Gilles was inside Tristan's stall, brushing the horse down.

"Gilles, go inside and take care of all those ridiculous candles before they burn the place down! I am staying at the tavern tonight. Make sure the stable door is closed tightly! It looks like a storm is coming."

Gilles' smile faded and he watched with puzzlement as his master walked towards town in the setting sun's purple light.

* * *

Gaston was right; the weather turned. Evening winds brought a storm that drenched the countryside with icy rain that turned to snow, frosting the ground with a light dusting of white. Fall was over and the long, cold months of winter had started.

In the tavern, Gaston sat in his chair by the stone fireplace. The mounted heads of his favorite and most impressive kills looked down on him from their place on the wall. Behind him the tables and bar were full of men relaxing with a brew after the day's excitement. Laughter and chattering filled the air, but Gaston took no interest in what was going on around him.

He just watched the fire with brooding eyes. Once in a while Lefou came over to bring him a beer, but as for the rest, they left Gaston alone, afraid of his temper after the afternoon's unfortunate... letdown.

Gaston kept going over the scene in his mind. Belle had rejected him in front of the entire village! She had made a fool of him, led him on, and then dismissed him like an unwanted dog! And she had ruined his finest clothes! She had acted very unwisely - NOBODY said no to Gaston!

He continued to sit in a black mood.

People came and went throughout the evening. Gaston listened in irritation as the eldest Garnier sister, Magda, walked in with three or more men following her. Magda was laughing and flirting with them. Her pretty face was flushed by the chill outside, matching her pink dress. As she walked in, her dancing green eyes caught sight of Gaston's lonely figure sitting in his chair all alone. She didn't dare walk over to him, but she had a plan. She told her followers to go sit, and then went to Lefou. Now that Belle had rejected him, Gaston could spend his time and energy here, where he belonged.

Magda and her sisters were very beautiful. with blond curls that reached the seat of their chairs when they sat down, dazzling green eyes behind thick, black lashes, flawless skin, and perfect white teeth. Ever since they were young girls, their mother had made sure to teach them well the art of catching the attention of worthwhile men. The quote they lived by was, "To be loved is a strength, to love is a weakness."

Their mother's hard work had paid off well, for there was no end of men, young and old, rich and poor, married and unmarried, coming to call. The girls found themselves the center of attention everywhere, be it on the streets or at the village's dances. Gaston had been the prize though - as the strongest most handsome man he was given the most of their attention and charm. All three enjoyed his flirting and had great fun in the evenings when he was at the tavern. They all had wept that afternoon when they thought he would be lost to them.

"Oh, Lefou, how is our poor darling? We were all just so upset, of course, for our dear man. Do you think there is any way we could cheer him up?"

Lefou thought hard. He was always a little uneasy around the Garnier sisters - they were so beautiful and they knew it.

"Gosh, I don't know. I've never seen him like this, so down in the dumps. It's a shame, when we all know every man here would love to be Gaston, even on a day like today when he is taking his lumps."

"Oh, the poor man! All right, I'll tell you what we will do. You just go to him and tell him that. I will talk to the men at the bar. Leave it to me." With a bright smile she gently pushed Lefou over to Gaston. "Go on."

Lefou took a deep breath and, grabbing two beers off the bar, went to Gaston. "More beer, Gaston?"

Gaston had had enough. He grabbed the two mugs from Lefou and threw them into the fire in an angry rage. "What for? Nothing helps! I'm disgraced!"

Lefou looked at his suddenly empty hands and then flinched when the glass hit the stone fireplace and shattered. The alcohol made the fire leap up in a small explosion. He turned to look over his shoulder at Magda, who was whispering to the barkeep. Lefou turned again to the brooding Gaston. "Gaston, you've got to pull yourself together! It's disturbing to see you so depressed, and for what? Because some dim-witted girl didn't have the sense to accept your hand? She was probably just playing hard to get. Besides, look around you..." He spread his arms out to show the room full of men who were now listening to every word he was saying "...every man here would love to be you, with your god-like features and skills! There's no man in town as admired as you! You're everyone's favorite guy!" A cheer went up from the crowd in agreement. Lefou walked over to the bar and the three Gariner sisters rushed to Gaston's side. They looked up at him adoringly.

"Oh, darling, we just hate to see you in such a terrible state!" Eva exclaimed. "Can't you see what a wonderful man you are?"

Gaston looked away, wanting them to know they were not forgiven for witnessing his rejection that afternoon.

Zsa Zsa tried another approach. "Oh, Gaston please tell us our favorite hunting story once more. The time when you shaved by the light of the full moon. Such a romantic story!"

Gaston looked down at her, relenting. She did look pretty in her yellow dress, showing off her milky white shoulders.

"Well, if you will leave me alone when I am done, I will tell you." He forgot about Belle for a moment. His handsome features arranged themselves to look his best, now that all the attention was on him, as it should be. "It was during the spring thaw and the rivers were up, making it impossible to see my face in the rushing water. Well, you know how I hate to chance a cut on my gorgeous face, so I bravely went without shaving for a week. I tell you I was going crazy, my beautiful face all covered up with whiskers! When I had just about lost hope, I came to a puddle late one night, high in the mountains, and as still as glass, untouched by wind. The moon was as round and as yellow as a wheel of cheese, and it shone down almost as bright as day. I wasted no time, I can tell you! I unloaded my knife and soap, and with water from my canteen, I lathered my face and shaved, looking down into that puddle, exposing skin as soft and perfect as a baby's."

Gaston rubbed his chin, lost in thoughts of how striking his reflection had been.

The sisters sighed with delight, imagining being alone with Gaston "high in the mountains".

Gaston looked at the girls and grinned. He liked the look of girls that were in love with him.

Just then Stanley, who was sitting at a table with three other men, piped up, "Tell us the story of the bear rug! That one's my favorite!"

Gaston looked down at the rug under his feet. He remembered the surprise attack and the struggle that had ensued. A lesser man wouldn't have survived to be here today retelling the story. Gaston grinned smugly, thinking, _Well, I'm no ordinary man!_

"You all remember that year- bad summer. Spring came late, then a summer draught, causing all the game to move east. Then fall came, and before there was a chance to get any rain, we were hit with that thick frost, killing all the berries and fruit. Well, being the superior hunter that I am, I found probably the only stag in this part of the Alps, and boy, he was a beauty! But I brought him down on the face of a mountain, and his body plummeted down into a ravine. But me being ME, it didn't take me long to find it. While I was bent over quartering it up, the hair on the back of my neck all of a sudden stood up. I turned just in time to see a wall of black. The biggest brown bear I have ever seen was mere inches away from me. He knocked me over with a paw the size of a... well look at the size of these!" He reached down and held up the huge front paw of the bear rug for the men to see. "But I kept my wits about me. I rolled over while pulling out my knife from its sheath, and as he came in for the second attack... Well, men, a few well placed jabs with my knife made the bear regret his decision to challenge me for my kill!"

When he finished, another cheer went up from the crowd. "No one hunts like Gaston!"

And then everyone was talking at once.

"Remember the time he stole those kegs of beer from the town down the road and carried it up to us on foot?"

"Remember how he won the chess game he played with old man Claude when he was only eleven?"

"Remember the wrestling match you got into with him, Stanley?" Stanley did; his calf still had the scar from Gaston's teeth.

Lefou stood on a table and lifted his glass over his head. "That's right, men! To Gaston: the best there is while the rest are all drips!"

"Hurrahs!" and "Hip-Hips" filled the room as everyone drank to the great and wonderful Gaston.

Gaston watched the crowd with a smile. "Yes, as a specimen I _am_ intimidating!"

Long into the night, praise went up for Gaston, as the men and women admired his wit, strength and all around Gaston-like tendencies.

It was very early in the morning, just when some of the men were thinking of calling it a night, when someone burst through the tavern's doors. Everyone started and looked up. It was Maurice, blue-lipped and wide-eyed. No sooner had his feet landed on the wooden floors that he started shouting for help.

"Please! Please!" He was almost incoherent, his teeth were chattering so uncontrollably and he was rambling so fast. "Please, I need your help! We must go, now! Not a moment to lose! He's got her, he's got Belle locked in a dungeon!"

The sight of Maurice reminded Gaston of Belle, and he became angry again. "Whoa, slow down, Maurice! Who has Belle locked in a dungeon?" If it was true, it served Belle right for turning him down, Gaston thought.

"A beast! A horrible, awful BEAST!"

The shocked crowd started to laugh. Maurice had always been odd, but it seemed he had crossed the line and become stark raving mad! Even Gaston had to laugh at the old man's ravings. One after another, the men took turns mocking Maurice with questions.

"Was it a big beast?"

"Did it have a long ugly snout?"

"And sharp cruel fangs?"

Maurice knew they were mocking him, but is panicked mind didn't know how to reason with these men. He jut had to get them to listen to him. "Yes! Yes! Please, will you help me?"

Behind Maurice's back Gaston signaled to the men. "All right, old man, we'll help you out."

And with that three men grabbed Maurice by the shoulders and threw him out the tavern doors into the snow.

Laughter erupted. "Crazy old Maurice! He is always good for a laugh!"

Lefou said to Gaston, "See, aren't you glad you didn't marry Belle today? That crazy old loon would now be your father-in-law!"

"Say, Gaston," Lou asked from a table in the back, "Didn't your grandfather once tell a story about a monster that lived high up in the alps in a castle?"

Again, everyone was talking at once. "Ya, my mother used to tell me that story to make me eat my carrots."

"My old man told that to me to keep me from going onto old farmer Claude's property when I was a boy. Only it wasn't a monster - it was a giant that lived in a cave."

"My pops told me it was a two-headed lion that would come into our cottage and eat little boys that lied."

Everyone seemed to have s story about a monster that lived in the forest. Then they turned to Gaston. "Tell us your granddaddy's tale, Gaston!"

Gaston could remember sitting on his grandfather's knee as a boy of five and hearing the tale that made his hair stand on end. As he had gotten older, he had forgotten about it, as he saw too much of the outlaying wilderness to believe in an fairy stories told to frighten children into behaving.

"Well, men, gather round and I will tell you the tale of enchanted woods and of children who vanish out of thin air, of enchantments and giant monsters who lurk in the dark to feast on the flesh of the young."

The crowd of men leaned forward in their chairs, all attention was on Gaston. His beautiful voice the only sound in the room, spoke low.

"It was way back, when my grandfather's grandfather was a boy and each province was run by a lord. One particular lord, a duke, was cursed by a evil fairy. He was cursed to never bring anything but fear to his people. Soon after a son was born to the duke -.a son so hideous the man had to go into hiding so that no one would find the wee creature and kill it. The duke named his son Krampus - "clawed one" - and raised it in a hidden valley. Krampus grew to be wild and unpredictable, and the duke grew to fear what the creature would do if it ever found its freedom. The father could only live so long, and when he died, the creature was free at last. By then, it had grown into a beast the size of a mountain. He roamed through the mist and the wood, through the darkness and the shadows, a living, breathing nightmare. Every night the monster would go to one of his father's villages and, lurking in the darkened wood, would find a young child wondering alone and make off with it. Some say he takes children because he is lonely and keeps them in his haunted castle. Others say he eats them. No one knows for sure. As the legend grew, it was said that the Krampus was so skilled and stealthy it could yank a child out of its own bed and drag it away from its family without a sound. But that is just a story an old man told a child."

All was quiet as Gaston finished his awful tale. The men sat back in their chairs, now sober. Gaston had reminded them of their very real childhood fears, and more than one man felt a little uneasy..

After Gaston had finished his story, he shrugged his gigantic shoulders and laughed at the quiet room, "Men it is all a farce! There are no beast-like creatures out there! I have traveled this province from one end to the other, from the highest mountain to the lowest valley, and there is nothing to fear!"

The crowd started to laugh in relief and then cheered, "No one tells tales like Gaston!"

Gaston waved his hands in false modesty, then grabbed a beer and sat back and enjoyed the rest of the night.

Lefou was happy to see his friend's spirits back to normal. He glanced over at Magda. She was laughing at a joke Gaston had just told. Then she looked up and caught sight of Lefou and winked, their hero was no longer bedazzled by an unwanted stranger. He was theirs once again.

* * *

A/N I wanted to thank Trudirose for letting me "borrow" the name Tristan for Gaston's horse. It is just the perfect name for the stallion!

If you are interested in seeing some of my inspiration for this chapter check out "_KFPS Royal Friesian Horse_" on youtube (Tristan) and for Gaston's hunting lodge I had _manoir de berthouville_ in my mind. Both are worth checking out. :-)


End file.
